


Lygari

by katie_grey



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Comfort, Crying, Eating Disorder, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Food, Heavy Angst, Hugging, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki is a mess, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Suicide Attempt, Poor Loki (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Amnesia, Thanos is an asshole, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thor (Marvel) Is Not The Best Bro, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Trauma, Trust Issues, Whump, a few original characters but they're all robots, although they aren't enemies for long, and Tony likes giving them, but he tries, in this house we hate SHIELD, oh and cuddles, so many cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 160,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_grey/pseuds/katie_grey
Summary: Loki escapes Thanos, only to end up in the hands of SHIELD. He's panicking, bleeding, holding a glowing green rock to his chest, and about to be executed. Fury seems to think Tony is going to tolerate that, but he never knew Tony very well.But he might be in over his head, because Thanos turned out to be more sadistic than anyone could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So… this is gonna be long. And really dark, and really angsty. It’s an idea that just came to me one day, and I’ve expanded on it a lot, giving it a proper plot and all that stuff, because unfortunately I can’t get away with writing pages upon pages of purposeless character abuse. (Actually, I probably could, but I’d be too disturbed by myself to post it.)  
> Anyway. I’m going to put a WARNING here, for graphic rape, graphic torture, PTSD, panic attacks, a kind of sort of eating disorder (?), language, an M/M relationship, mild self-harm, and something that might be considered body horror. (Wow, that was a long list.)  
> So some aspects of this story were inspired by Don’t Look Down by NamelesslyNightlock (it’s posted on AO3.) It’s a wonderful story, where Tony and Loki support and help each other through all their trauma, all the while being dark and killing people… it’s amazing. Tony and Loki are probably more fucked up in my story, and they don’t kill nearly as many people, but if you look close you can probably see some similarities.  
> The first two chapters are the worst. The rest of the story is angsty, but these two are ANGSTY. So if you’re eating chicken nuggets, maybe put them down while you’re reading these, because I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite. That would be tragic.  
> Song for these first two chapters: Valentine by Luna Delirious. It has the kind of dark vibe that helps me get through writing this shit.  
> And thanks to DocWordsmith for beta reading! :)

They told him they would break him. He should have listened.

But when two Chitauri put their gristly, coarse hands on his shoulders and forced him, seething, to his knees, Loki did not listen to what Thanos was saying. His voice boomed across his sad excuse for a throne room, from where he was seated on a chair crowned by iron spikes. But Loki did not listen. Instead, he kept his head high and looked around the place, searching for an exit, an escape route, a weak point.

The walls were crumbling, and he could see the brilliant chasm of a sky - an entire galaxy overhead, trailing away into the darkness like an unfinished sentence, neon ribbons of crimson, studded with flecks of white light. Stars.

He didn't recognize it. He didn't know where he was.

"Pay attention," the left Chitauri growled, tightening its grip on its shoulder. It fingers dug into his skin like thorns. Loki hissed in annoyance, flipped his hair out of his eyes, and reluctantly glanced up at Thanos.

He was draped casually over his throne, his elbow resting on the armrest, his legs spread - rather rudely, Loki thought. He was careful to keep his eyes on Thanos' face.

"You knew this would come," Thanos said, voice so low that Loki could almost feel it, humming through his bones. "A new kind of suffering, a fate worse than death. I almost hoped you would fail, so I could watch you crumble." He raised his hands, gesturing at the room around them. "And here you are. Helpless."

Loki's magic was. Taken, by Odin. It must have been so easy for Thanos to steal him from his cell in the dead of night. He gritted his teeth. _That_ may have been easy, but nothing else would be easy for Thanos, from now on.

And he was quite good at making things difficult for other people.

Helpless. Thanos thought him helpless. Loki could have laughed. He was never helpless, and the ones who thought he was were always the ones who fell the hardest. And once Thanos fell, Loki would have a wonderful time tearing him apart.

"Naturally," Loki said. "I don't have any magic, I can't move, and I'm skinny as a tree branch, or so I've been told. Did you expect me to be anything else? But you only feel safe when I'm defenseless… I thought better of you." He cast his eyes to the side, pretending to be deep in thought. "I have absolutely no idea why I thought better of you, actually."

Thanos' mouth curled up into a smile. His mouth, and his square chin, was all Loki could see, because his eyes were cast into shadow by his gaudy golden helmet. Gold lined his arms, his chest, his thighs. Loki wrinkled his nose. It was bad taste. And besides, it reminded him of the palace in Asgard, with its gold walls and gold ceiling and stupid gold chairs.

And it crashed down on him.

He wasn't in Asgard. He wouldn't see Asgard again for a long, long time.

Why couldn't he have succeeded? Why did he have to fail? Why couldn't it have gone _right_ for once?

Why couldn't Odin have been telling the truth when he said Loki would never get out of his cell?

He wished he was dreaming, but he knew he wasn't. He remembered the shock that shot through his body when they woke him up, when he saw their dark eyes and their hands, touching him, grabbing him. He remembered shouting. And knowing that no one would hear.

A blur of motion, darkness. His feet scrambling for a hold on the ground as they dragged him away. Pain. Black.

Waking up here.

And it could be a nightmare if it wasn't for the pain. For the touch. For the stifling warmth of this stinking hellhole.

Thanos' smile widened. He must have seen some sign on Loki's face, the realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. Loki quickly forced his eyes into their comfortable blankness, and his lips into a sneer, pulling them mercilessly back like they had been hooked by a fishing line.

"You may say you are better than me," Thanos said, his eyes lazily scanning Loki's body. "But which of us is on his knees, Laufeyson?"

Loki exhaled sharply at the name, glaring daggers. He clenched his fists and jerked against the hands of the Chitauri, rising to his feet even as they dug their pincer-hands into his shoulders, trying to force him back down. Fools. He was a god. He stepped back, kicked one of them in the side, and whirled to get the other one, his knee jamming into its groin.

Chitauri were not so different from Aesir. It went down with a groan, writhing in agony. Loki grinned savagely, raising his head as others advanced on him from the shadows of the throne room, daggers in their hands. He dropped back into a fighting stance. He did not miss the eagerness in the way they walked, but he matched it with his own mad grin, beckoning them forward.

He would go down, he knew it. And he knew all too well what would come after.

But he would not go down easily.

And if Thanos thought he would, then he was sadly mistaken. Loki would fight until his last breath.

But they were like cats, toying with him. He would dodge a blow, and another would strike him in the back with a claw, making his breath catch, making him arch his back in pain. One of them drew its talon of a finger across his arm, almost lazily, and he hissed and yanked it away as it split into a bloodied mess. When he backed up, he walked straight into the oncoming fist of another, and it caught him in the jaw, making his world explode into pain and darkness.

He went down.

But his eyes burned with uncontained rage, defiance, even though his head was swimming and he was fighting for air, even though his head was ringing and he gasped aloud when one of them delivered a vicious kick to his side.

His hands were splayed on the floor, fingers trying to grip it, like it was a lifeline. He couldn't hold up his head. He gagged on blood.

"I do not take failure lightly," Thanos said, descending the staircase with the grating sound of gold on gold. "You will be an example. I will break you, and the universe will watch, and no one else will ever fail me again, for fear of becoming the huddled, ruined mess that you will be."

He leaned down, and now Loki could see his eyes. Bright with his victory.

Loki spat blood in his face. "Never."

Thanos' eyes hardened. He stood, and at his full height he towered over Loki, who was lying on the ground. "Good," he murmured, as he wiped the red stain from the side of his head, and rubbed away a drop that had trickled down his chin, and stained the edge of his lips. "It is much more fun to break something that wants desperately to remain whole."

Loki didn't see the kick coming. He should have.

The side of his head burst into flame with a _crack_. Everything went dark.

()()()

He would forget that first day. He would forget everything but the pain and the tears and the horrible, sickening feeling in his gut.

But while he was there, in the dark cell they put him in, with its four stone walls, stone ceiling and floor, and absolutely nothing else but shadows, it was the monotony that he hated. He sat against the wall, arms resting on his knees, and watched as big green and purple bruises bloomed on his skin like flowers. Sometimes he paced, or examined the door, searching for a weakness he already knew he wouldn't find. But he hated the monotony, for he would end up drowning in the dread that resided in his chest, an unwanted occupant of a vacant space. Heavy, painful, like a jagged rock, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe.

He massaged his jaw. He gripped his side.

And as the seconds and the minutes ticked by, feeling like years, he recited. Passages from books. Poems. Spells - although they were useless now. Anything, and everything. Over and over and over again. The Chitauri guard outside his door must have thought he was mad, but it didn't make him stop, so Loki continued to recite. Pacing, speaking.

Fitting, that the sound of his own voice was the only thing that comforted him, kept him from going mad because of the boredom.

And the dread. The dread lurked in the back of his mind, following him wherever he went. Reminding him of how much pain was to come. This had no purpose. They didn't need anything from him other than revenge. They probably would never kill him. It would just keep getting worse, and worse, because that was how this _worked_.

Not that the pain would make him give in.

He would not surrender to something so lowly as that.

There in the dark, he made a promise. "I will not break," he said. And he repeated it, with more force. "I will not break," over and over until he believed it.

He added it to his recitation. An account of the War of the Sand Dunes of Svartalheim, paragraphs from the yellowed scrolls of the Ancients, quotations from famous scholars, back when scholars were respected. And that same sentence. "Ég mun ekki brjóta. I will _not_ break."

()()()

Thanos must have been impatient, because they came not long after. When they came, he called it the second day. Why not?

Two Chitauri. They wrapped their claw-fingers around his arms, pinching. He sighed, loudly. "I can just walk, you know."

They dragged him anyway, and he stumbled at first before almost running to keep up with them. But when they reached the throne room, they jerked on his arms, making sure that he was staggering as he approached Thanos' throne. Petty.

"For the record," he said, as they forced him to his knees again. "That room was really lacking in style, and decor, but somehow it smelled better than _this_ place." He made a show of scrunching up his nose. "Is that _you_? Definitely smells like you. Also smells like a rotting boar."

Thanos mouth split into a smile. "I will miss your wit, Laufeyson. A pity."

"Yes, it really would be. Not as pitiful as you, of course, hiding behind your little army. Where is the glory in that, oh-so-glorious Titan? Do you think I fear you?"

Thanos laughed.

Loki cocked his head to the side. "No, actually, _that_ wasn't a joke. I was being serious. I really think you're rather pathetic."

The right Chitauri dug a claw into his shoulder, hissing, "Be quiet."

Loki hissed back in pain and irritation. "You could have just _asked_ me…"

This time, its claw broke skin. A stabbing pain shot through his arm, and up his neck. It took a huge effort to keep from crying out. Inwardly, he cursed himself for talking. And outwardly, he glared at Thanos, chest heaving, and clenched his fists, imagining them wrapped around Thanos' neck, choking the life out of him.

Blood fell down his arm in a single stream, a jagged line, almost pretty. Loki stared at it.

"You should obey," Thanos said, amusement in his eyes. "Or it will be worse for you."

"I will never obey you," Loki said.

He would not break.

"You should have been quiet," the left Chitauri said. It kicked him in the side.

_The heart is beautiful_

_To those who appreciate the ugly, deformed things,_

_The things which are shoved away into their corners, crevasses and caves,,_

_And left there to rot._

He recited it, over and over in his mind, even as he clutched his side against his will, panting, gasping for air. It hadn't broken any of his ribs, hadn't fractured any bones, he was okay, he was fine, he was _fine_ this was _fine_ he could _take it._

They wrenched his hands away, and there were cold things, sharp things, poking into the skin of his arms. He didn't realize what was happening, he couldn't think, his mind was a hurricane, whirling.

They slashed his arms with their claws.

He gritted his teeth against the scream, fighting to escape his throat.

Pain? So this was Thanos' plan? _Pain_? He thought this would break him?

He could break his body. Yes, he could break his body into pieces. But Thanos would _never_ be able to break his mind.

He held that thought close to his chest, he cradled it in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Do you understand?" Thanos asked. "Disobey, and you suffer. Obey, and you… suffer slightly less." His lips parted in a horrible smile.

Loki did not look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the sky outside, and he breathed slowly, in out, in out. Deep breaths. Yes, that was what he needed. Deep breaths.

"Do you understand?" Thanos asked, again. "Answer me."

Loki almost rolled his eyes. But he wasn't about to let them hurt him over something as unimportant as this. "I understand," he said, injecting as much sarcasm as possible into his voice.

"Your excess words are not needed. Yes, or no."

Loki sucked in a deep breath. "Yes."

"Good."

He didn't expect it, so he gasped, embarrassingly, when they lifted him up. But he did not stumble when they led him away. He was proud of that.

()()()

It was not only pain.

On day four, they offered him water. He was thirsty, so thirsty that he had stopped reciting, had stopped speaking aside from when Thanos demanded an answer, because it hurt to swallow.

The Chitauri sneered at him, holding the glass out towards him.

Loki reached for it.

A claw speared him, in the stomach. He doubled over, crossing his arms, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to pretend like it didn't hurt but it _did_. He breathed slowly, in out, in out, slowly. Don't forget to breathe slowly.

"Did I say you could reach for it?" the Chitauri asked. "You don't do _anything_ unless I say you can." It poured the water out, onto the floor.

Loki watched it fall, feeling faint.

The Chitauri grabbed his arm and pulled him out. They took him to the throne room. Immediately, Loki straightened, and forced on a smile and a saunter. "So that's your great plan, is it? Dehydration?" He splayed his hands in the air, and widened his eyes, pretending to be impressed. "Wow."

Thanos laughed again.

()()()

Day seven. Loki was hungry.

"Tell me, Laufeyson. Tell me, and you will eat. Why did you fail?"

He wrapped his arms over his stomach, trying to ease the pain of his hunger. He took several deep breaths, and he winced when the Chitauri dug their claws into his skin. Then he forced himself to stand still, to plaster on a disdainful glance. He was just hungry. He had been hungry before.

But what did Thanos want him to say? This wasn't a yes or no question. What was he supposed to do?

Thanos eyes narrowed with impatience. He raised his hand.

"Just _wait_ , I'm _thinking_..." Loki said, but it was too late, and he had hesitated too long.

He grunted at the punch to his arm, to the same place where four long red lines marred his skin. But he did not cry out, and he did not scream.

_20,000 elvin foot soldiers, 12,000 archers, 8,000 on horseback._

_30,000 Aesir foot soldiers, 3,000 archers, 15,000 on horseback._

"Why did you fail?" Thanos repeated.

"I…" Loki swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts. It was just pain but god, did it hurt. "Because of Thor, and his _human friends_ ," he spat the word like it was venom. "They…"

"No," Thanos interrupted. A claw broke the skin of his shoulder blade, and he hissed.

"No," Loki repeated, tasting the word. Panic rose up, because he didn't know what Thanos wanted, but he forced it back down. He wouldn't submit to panic. "Because of their weapons. Because of their military. Because of…"

"No." Another claw stabbed into his shoulder.

_38,000 dead elvin warriors. 2,000 prisoners._

_8,000 dead Aesir warriors. No prisoners._

_The War of the Sand Dunes of Svartalfheim, known there as the Great Massacre._

"I see you are more incompetent than I thought," Thanos said. "The answer, Laufeyson, is that you are _pathetic._ You are worthless. You are weak, and too stupid to follow simple orders. Now, repeat it."

Loki hesitated.

And then he smiled.

"No."

()()()

His body was covered in colorful bruises, like a flower garden. He was glad they hadn't given him a mirror.

He closed his eyes and sighed. It reminded him of sitting in the grass, beside the roses that grew in the gardens outside of the palace, with a breeze lifting his hair. Silence, and peace.

He wondered if his false family would care that he was gone.

He wondered if the roses were growing, without his spells to keep them big and bright and smelling sweet. Perhaps no one had bothered to water them. Perhaps they were dead.

()()()

Eighth day.

Instead of emptying his filthy bucket of waste, they poured it out onto the floor.

There was no reason. He had not disobeyed, he had not spoken.

They left with no explanation, nothing but a swift kick to the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground, his hands and his knees soaked in his own piss and shit.

There was no reason.

He fell asleep in the corner, stomach churning.

And after that, he tensed every time one of them came near, bracing for a blow.

()()()

Tenth day.

"Are you hungry?" Thanos asked.

One of the Chitauri held out a piece of meat, dangled it in front of Loki's eyes.

He hadn't eaten in days. His stomach was hollow. _Of course he was hungry._

"Yes," he said. It hurt to speak, because he was so thirsty. He spoke anyway.

"Then repeat it. You are pathetic, you are worthless, weak, too stupid to follow simple orders."

Loki's chapped lips split into a grin. " _You_ are pathetic," he said. " _You_ are worthless, _you_ are weak, and your brain is the size of a beetle."

One Chitauri threw him to the ground and held him there. The other hit him in the back with a stick, again and again. He flung his arms over his head, squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lip and recited in his mind.

_I will not break._

_I will not break._

But the pain just kept coming, and each heavy blow was like the thud of an axe slicing into a block of wood. Eventually, he would be cut in half.

When the twenty-first blow came, a noise escaped Loki's lips - just a _noise_ , pure agony wrapped in sound waves. Guttural, ragged and raw. The Chitauri laughed.

By the twenty-fifth, he was curled up on his side, writhing, hands tangled in his hair. Screaming. His screams bounced off the walls, shrieking at him, mocking him.

They went to thirty.

And it was just _pain._ So what if he screamed? That said nothing. If someone did that to Thanos, he would have wailed like a baby.

But later, lying curled up in the comforting shadows of the corner of his cell, with his arms still thrown protectively over his head, Loki felt like he had lost.

()()()

Three days of this.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Then repeat it."

He did not joke. He was too tired. He just said no.

And his mind was all he had, but it was harder to focus on reciting, on the many ways he would cut Thanos apart once he escaped, on the quickly diminishing number of brain cells that Thanos owned, because he was so hungry. And so hollow. And hurting.

On the third day, choking on the pain that _just kept coming_ , Loki wished he had done what Thanos asked. And he hated himself for wishing.

On the fourth day, he did.

"I am pathetic," he said, so quietly that Thanos leaned in to hear, a manic grin cutting across his face. "I am worthless. I am weak. I am too stupid to follow simple orders."

After that, they gave him a rag and a bucket of water to clean the floor of his cell. They gave him food and water, and they gave him a pillow.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked the Chitauri's retreating back, from where he sat in the corner, clutching the pillow tightly to his chest.

The Chitauri turned slowly, a sneer firmly fixed on its face. "How do you train a dog? Punish it when it does wrong, reward it when it does right," it said. And it left, shutting the door quietly - _kindly_ \- and leaving Loki alone in the dark.

He took a shuddering breath, and buried his face in the pillow.

Softness. Warmth.

It reminded him of Asgard. Of his home. Of his room, with his bookshelves lining the walls, and all his things and all his books strewn across the floor, because he was called chaos, after all. The scent of lilac flooding in through the window. Perhaps he would be lying on his stomach in his bed, bare feet waving in the air, reading with the light that danced from his fingers.

Maybe Thor would be there. Maybe they would be talking.

He tried to remember the last peaceful conversation he had had with Thor, the last one that hadn't ended in yelling, or in anger. He wasn't sure that the one he remembered had been the last, but it stood out in his mind like a bold, red flower. Bright.

"Dinner'll be made soon," he could hear Thor saying. "Do you want roasted chicken, or baked potatoes? Or both?" He stressed the word _both_ , hinting that Loki should go for that option.

And in his mind's eye, he saw himself lounging on the bed, drumming a finger against his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Ah," he heard himself saying. "Hmm. Difficult decision. Such a difficult decision, definitely important enough to interrupt my studying for."

"What are you studying?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. "As if you'll understand."

"At least give me a chance."

And that was how Thor ended up sitting cross-legged on Loki's floor, listening as he spewed spellcasting jargon like he was chatting about the weather. It must have been horribly boring, but Thor remained anyway.

Loki had thought nothing of it.

But now…

He hugged the pillow tighter.

He missed his brother.

And his mother.

And everyone. Oh, what he would give to see just one friendly face.

()()()

His vocabulary shrunk drastically.

"Yes."

"No."

"I am pathetic."

"Worthless."

"Weak."

"Stupid."

They didn't allow him to say anything else.

Sometimes he refused. Sometimes, when Thanos ordered him to repeat the words, he shook his head, because he would rather not speak at all than say that. When he refused, he always ended up slumped like a dirty rag in the corner of his cell, with a faint smile on his face, and blood smeared across his skin.

When he didn't refuse, it was easier. But he hated it more. Hated himself, more, for giving in.

Either way, he never said anything else.

So when he was alone, he made sure to speak. Anything. Everything. It didn't matter, as long as he retained his words. They were like precious jewels, and he hid them away in the deepest shadows of his aching heart, like a dragon hoarding its chest of gold.

"I will not break," he told the wall. "Do you hear me? _I will not._ I refuse."

He recited quotes he had learned in childhood. And poems. And numbers, and spells, and pages out of books. And when he was not speaking, he closed his eyes and remembered Frigga - his mother - and her shining, kind eyes. Thor, and his obnoxious hair, his broad shoulders, his warm arms. Even Odin. Even Thor's friends. So he would not lose them.

If he lost them, he would lose himself.

But it was hard. For a week, they did not feed him. They left him alone in the dark, with nothing to occupy him but his circular thoughts, his bruises, and his slow starvation. He wondered if he would die here. He wondered if they would allow that.

He hated it. He no longer had any control over his own life, not even over whether he ate. Whether he spoke. He hated it.

And it was hard. Hours spent huddled in the corner, waiting anxiously for the door to open, unable to sleep. Reciting, reciting, clinging to his thoughts. Unwilling to admit that they were all he had left.

"If you want to eat," Thanos said, on the thirtieth day, after they had jerked him up out of his sleep and dragged him, gasping, to the throne room. "Then bow. Grovel at my feet. Beg for it."

Loki wrapped his arms around the emptiness in his stomach, swaying on his feet. His back still felt like fire.

He wondered what they would do if he said no. After all, they wanted to keep him alive. How else would they have their fun?

So he smiled softly.

"No," he said.

Because he was chaos. He couldn't claim to be unbreakable if he wasn't causing any. He would not make this easy for them.

But Thanos' smile did not disappear.

It grew.

And Loki bared his teeth to match.

They grabbed him, they threw him to the ground but he jerked away and got up again. His words came flooding back, in a raging current like a kick to the jaw. Anger flared in his eyes, in his fists, in his very bones. He was so _angry._

"Fuck you!" He shouted, writhing in their grip, all elbows and knees and fists. " _Fuck you!_ You are pathetic! You will never break me, I will never bow to a monster like you!"

They struck him with their fists. They threw him to the ground. He wanted to rip them limb from limb.

Pain, again.

Just pain.

Not very creative, were they?

Like an inventor, trying different tools - but working with the same piece of metal, and expecting different results. Stupid.

Sure, they used a whip this time and sure _,_ when they held it up, and pinned him down, his heart thudded in his chest and he gasped for air and _sure,_ when it _cracked_ and pain split him down the middle he could not keep silent. Noise erupted from his lips, agony in the form of sound, wrapped up like a fancy gift and presented right to their ears. And they smiled, so they must have liked it. It was sick, the way they smiled.

But just because it hurt didn't mean it was breaking him.

They could beat his body but they could not beat his mind.

They could never beat his mind.

()()()

"So, you bow, Laufeyson," Thanos murmured, getting down on one knee to examine the battered figure who lay at his feet. His shirt was reduced to rags, completely torn, exposing his back, which was sliced open, dripping blood. Blood on his arms, his hands, his face. Pain, pain, pain. Loki had turned to fire. There was nowhere he could go within himself without getting burnt.

But under it all, like he was crawling beneath smoke, he repeated in his head. _I will not break_.

And he realized then, that it was true.

So when he raised his head, he smiled at Thanos. And the fire was his body, so there was fire in his eyes, too.

"Never," he murmured. Dimly, he wondered if he was wishing for a death sentence. But he wouldn't have taken it back if he could.

However, even though he tensed in anticipation, no further pain arrived. Thanos stood, and turned, and lumbered away, out of view. Loki sighed softly and turned his face into his elbow, breathing deeply, embracing the quiet and the dark. Reciting. Remembering.

Wishing he could bash Thanos' head in.

Watch blood cascade down, turning the gold chestplate red as rust. And finally, finally, Loki would not have to look at that hideous chin. How sweet his victory would be.

He knew it would never happen. He wasn't an idiot. He knew there was no way out. He had fallen too far. This was to be his Helheim.

But it was nice to imagine.

()()()

Days passed.

It was all monotonous. All painful.

"Beg for your food," Thanos ordered. "Plead for it."

"No."

"No."

"No."

Until, finally, on the thirty-eighth day, once he had been dragged back to his cell and they were supposed to leave him alone in the dark, one of the Chitauri stayed behind.

Loki remained crouched in the corner, clutching his pillow, careful not to let the wall touch his back. Or any part of him, really. Everything hurt.

He watched the Chitauri warily, like a cornered animal. When it took a step towards him, he tensed. When it reached for him, he flinched away, glaring at it, wishing he could tear it apart with nothing but his eyes.

In its hand was a piece of meat.

"Eat," it said.

He did not take it. His stomach was gone, and there was an empty space where it should be. He was completely hollow, like a tunnel, and it was a dull, throbbing ache, invading his thoughts, making his hands shake. But he did not take it.

"Please," the Chitauri said, leaning down so they were at eye-level. "Eat. Take it. I'm not supposed to be here. Quickly."

Loki snatched it out of his hand, and held it to his chest, against the pillow. It smelled good. His emptiness whimpered.

"Why would you help me?" he asked.

"Contrary to your experience, my race is not all made up of monsters."

The Chitauri left.

He took a bite. How could he not?

But only a few moments later his stomach exploded within him - it must have, for it was the deepest kind of pain, making him double over, unable to breathe - and he retched violently. Nothing came up but water, stringy with mucus and blood. It brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back angrily because he hadn't cried yet, and he wasn't about to now.

But the pain remained. It burrowed into his bones, like a million hearts, beating out a pulse. He gasped and convulsed and spasmed there on the floor until it finally ended, what seemed like hours later.

His pillow was soaked with blood.

He threw the meat into the bucket of his waste, so there was no chance he would become desperate enough to eat it.

And he curled up on the ground, still hugging his bloody pillow to his chest, and stared at the wall until his mind drifted away to sleep.

()()()

He became a locked box.

He no longer joked.

There was fire in his eyes, but that was all. He was too tired for anything more.

He still said no. He still refused. And he still wasn't broken.

And when he was alone, the box was opened. Words flooded out. Tired words, sure. But not beaten, not bruised. Perfect words, unharmed words. He recited, and he spoke, and as long as he had that, he would not break.

()()()

Day forty-six.

He was lying in his cell. Short, shuddering breaths. Arms wrapped around his stomach. They had taken the pillow, and they had dumped out the bucket again yesterday. The room stank. But his stomach didn't hurt anymore, the pain was distant, and he knew that was a bad sign.

Bruises, which had bloomed before his eyes, now wilted in the dark.

And the door opened.

He whimpered, accidentally, and bit down on the side of his cheek to silence it. _They weren't supposed to come yet._ It hadn't been enough time for his wounds to heal. He pushed himself further into the corner, but when his back accidentally brushed against the wall it burst into flame and he whimpered again. Shit.

Heavy footsteps. Dark boots. He squinted.

The Chitauri didn't wear boots.

A hammer swinging from its hand. _A hammer_. A beautiful, silver hammer, the most glorious thing he had ever seen.

It - no, _he_ \- knelt at Loki's side. "Loki," he murmured, "Brother," in Thor's voice. Thor's voice. Thor.

Loki reached for him. Grabbed on tightly to his hands, relished in their warmth. Thor pulled him up and Loki threw himself into his brother's arms, not caring that it set his still-healing wounds on fire, not caring about the pitiful sight he must be.

He made it. 

He was going to get out. He was going to be free. And he hadn't broken. _He did it._

"I'm so sorry," Thor said. "I tried to find you. I looked everywhere. But I never thought you would be _here_. I'm so sorry. Brother, I will make this right. No one will ever hurt you again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GODD y'all are so nice! I got wayyyy more comments on that last chapter then I've ever gotten on anything ever. Thank you so much! *Hugs you all non- consensually*  
> Speaking of nonconsensual (haha nice segway amiright), this chapter is definitely not chicken nugget safe. There bad stuff in here. And I know that you're all excited about that, aren't you, you sick bastards.  
> Oh, and I'm gonna apologize in advance for these horrendous atrocities I committed against the poor, innocent Icelandic language. I'm lazy and I used Google Translate. Um and I didn't really use it for anything important, just a few words here and there that are mostly repeated in the same sentence in English. So if you actually were to take the time to copy n paste all that poor, innocent Icelandic into Google Translate just to see what Big, Important Secrets would be revealed... you'll be disappointed. But I'd admire your determination.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this sadistic shit that I mind-barfed all over your keyboard.

Thor took him to Asgard - he must have - for Loki soon found himself in a dark room, a _different_ room. It was small, cramped, and drab, and he wished he could leave and go to the palace, but it was different and that was all that mattered.

“We need to heal your wounds,” Thor explained, gently. “You will remain here for a few days.”

Loki nodded. He was not about to complain.

The last few minutes had been a blur. He must have been dangerously injured, for he remembered nearly nothing. No familiar whirlwind of the Bifrost, no fresh air or sunlight hitting his face as they walked to this healing room. His mind was a haze, a foggy haze. But he didn’t mind. He lay there in the warmth with Thor beside him, and he was perfectly content.

The healer walked in, and perhaps he had flinched, for Thor rested an arm on his shoulder protectively. But he quickly snapped out of it. They were not going to hurt him. He would _not_ be affected by what they did to him. 

But when the healer moved behind him, and began to remove the ragged pieces of cloth that were his shirt, Loki froze, and his breath got stuck in his throat. Thor held him tight. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s just going to fix your back.”

Loki remembered Thor’s words, and he clutched them as tightly as he had clutched that filthy pillow. _No one will ever hurt you again._

_I did not break._

_I beat them, and I did not break._

_I won._

Frigga arrived moments later, with her hand covering her mouth and tears shining in her eyes. Loki was too tired to do anything but smile when he saw her. She knelt at his side, next to Thor, and cradled his face in her hands. “My son,” she said. “My poor son…”

Loki shook his head, as well as he could when he was lying on his side. “No. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

But she didn’t leave, neither of them did, until the healing magic had seeped its way into his skin, had stitched together his wounds, until all that was left were thin, white scars. The bruises withered and died. The blood vanished. Loki sighed softly when it was done. He felt so light.

“Thank you,” he said to the healer.

She smiled at him. “It is nothing.” And she left the room.

Loki breathed out slowly. 

“Loki,” Thor said. “I’m so sorry. I should have been watching closer, I should not have allowed those savages to do this to you. It’s my fault.”

“If it is his fault, then it is mine as well,” Frigga said. “It is all of ours.”

“It’s _okay_ , mother,” Loki said. “I’m just so glad to be home.”

It was true. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Asgard, how much he loved it, until it was gone. And the same went for Thor and Frigga. He loved them so much.

Frigga planted a kiss on his forehead. “Come with us to the gardens,” she said. “I know you love them. And you will eat, and drink, and sleep. But come with us.”

“Of course.”

()()()

Lavender trailed after them on the wind, hanging lightly in the air. Loki breathed deeply, slowly, freely, as he followed Thor and Frigga through the flowers.

“The roses!” he cried. “They’re alive!”

Frigga turned slowly, smiled at him, and picked one. She held it out to him. He took it, closed his eyes, and smelled it. It was freshness and beauty and everything he had been deprived of for so long. He held it close to his chest.

They sat together on a bench. Thor had obtained a plate of chicken from somewhere, and he gave it to Loki. “Eat slowly,” he said. Loki knew, of course. But it was so hard to resist.

He took small bites. It was heaven. 

He drank water, and it soothed his chapped lips, his parched throat.

He leaned heavily on Thor’s shoulder, and Thor wrapped at arm around him, and Loki fell asleep, perfectly at peace.

()()()

They held a feast in his honor. It was all cheering and drinking and toasting to his name. Raucous conversations, clamorous laughter. Burly, muscular warriors crowding the hall, and all of them appreciating him, caring about him, for the first time.

Loki stood beside Odin’s throne, in Thor’s place. Odin gave him a smile, and Loki returned it, almost shyly. He wasn’t used to all this attention. Good attention.

He was more than accustomed to bad attention.

No.

He shook his head slightly, and forced that small smile to cross his face again. He would not let them get to him. He would not remember.

Thor put a hand on his shoulder, as if he could sense something was wrong. Loki smiled at him, and Thor smiled back.

“To Loki Odinson! To coming home!” Odin cried, standing and raising his goblet. The room of warriors stood as well, all chanting, “To coming home!” They banged their cups together, and they drank in his honor. Loki’s smile became genuine.

()()()

He spent the rest of the day in his room. On his bed, with his feet waving in the air. He picked up a book and began from the place he had left off, as if he had never been gone at all. 

At first, he clutched his pillow to his chest. 

Then he realized what he was doing, and flung it across the room. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He won. And when he found Thanos, found him in whatever dirty corner of the universe he was cowering in, he would rip his skin from his body, he would tear his limbs into pieces, and he would laugh at the top of his lungs. 

Anger. Loki clenched his fists. How dare Thanos do this to him? There was so much anger, all of a sudden.

The scent of lavender drifted in through his open window. Golden, hazy sunlight fell in a rectangle across his bed, and dust drifted through it lazily. Loki closed his book with a snap, sat up, and looked outside, for a long time. His eyes traced the familiar path that led to the gardens, they hovered over the bushes of flowers, the waving, tall grass, the golden spires and domes of a city in the distance, turning the horizon to a geometric pattern of squares and circles. 

And it sunk in.

He was home. He was free.

It would take time, but he would be all right. They would never hurt him again. He had a life to live, once more. He had something beyond the four walls of a prison cell, he had something more than a bloody pillow to cling to. He was Loki and he survived Thanos, he would _kill_ Thanos, and he would be all right, in the end. As long as he had his home, and as long as he had his family, he would be all right.

“I am not pathetic,” he told the sun. “I am not worthless. I am not weak. I am not stupid, and I follow no one’s orders. I am Loki. I am strong.”

He waited until the sun’s light dimmed, until the shadows lengthened and obscured his view. Then he laid down on his bed, reveling in the softness, in all the things he had been deprived of for so long. A full stomach. Books. Things to do. People to talk to. 

He wished he had his magic. Although he wasn’t hungry, he still felt empty without it.

Why hadn’t Odin given him his magic?

(And how had they known where he was?)

But he decided not to think about that. Now was the time for sleeping. It would be a beautiful, deep sleep, and he would wake up refreshed, ready to live. To claim back what was rightfully his.

And once he had done that, he would bash Thanos’ head in. 

()()()

He talked with Thor during breakfast - eggs, ham, and beer - about the food, the feast last night, the mess left by the warriors. He laughed when Thor mentioned the destruction they had caused to the rest of Asgard. After all, hundreds of drunken warriors did not stand a chance of returning home quietly, or carefully. Beer was sloshed over the streets, there had been several petty robberies, a few poor souls had been skewered by arrows or knives. The roads were cluttered with broken glass, beard hair, and lost/forgotten shoes. The feast hall was even worse - overturned tables, food staining the walls. It was like a bar fight had gone out of hand, and extended over all of Asgard. 

“Ruffians,” Loki murmured fondly, shaking his head. “I’m surprised this realm hasn’t descended into anarchy yet.”

Thor likely did not understand the meaning of the word, “Anarchy,” because he responded to Loki’s statement with blank eyes and an awkward laugh. “Aye. But it was a good feast, was it not?”

“Yes,” Loki said, wistfully. “It was a good feast.”

After breakfast, he walked with Frigga through the halls of the palace. She kept repeating how sorry she was, but he waved her apologies away. “No need. No need to be sorry. It was not your fault, and besides, I am all right!” he spun in a circle. “See? Good as new.”

She did not seem convinced. “But things like this,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, stilling him. “Do not simply disappear. I am afraid for you. I think this is hurting you more than you would care to admit.”

Loki stared at her. “Hurting me? Mother, it is over! I am back home. Nothing will ever hurt me again.”

She shook her head, pursed her lips. “Are you sure?”

Loki was growing angry. He was Loki, he was not pathetic or weak. This would not affect him, he would not allow it. So he stepped away from her, and tangled his fingers in his hair, turning away and saying, “You should not discuss things you do not understand. I am _fine._ ” He raised his chin and walked away, leaving her there.

He spent the rest of the day wandering. Revisiting all his old places. The library. The hidden corridors of the palace. He still wasn’t used to all this freedom, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, that someone was going to step out of the darkness and grab him, and force him to his knees.

So he went back to his room. There were no shadows there. And it felt safe. 

He collapsed on his bed, and rested his head on the pillow. That lasted for a few, agonizing minutes, before he gave in and hugged the pillow to his chest, curling his body around it. 

_“Repeat it!” Thanos shouted. “Say the words!”_

_But Loki shook his head. “No.”_

_And the whip reared its ugly head, twisting like a snake. Hissing, it snapped downwards, baring its fangs. Loki buried his face in his arms, bracing himself, but the incredible pain of it was not possible to brace for. It was splitting him apart._

_He screamed into his arms, covering his head, curling up into himself on the ground. But the snake lunged at him, again and again, its fangs stabbing into his flesh._

Loki tensed, his nails digging into the pillow, burying his head in it. 

Maybe the snake had poisoned him. Was that why he couldn’t forget?

“But I am not broken,” he said, reassuring himself. He took a deep breath. “I am Loki. Listen to me! _I am Loki_. I am strong. And I beat Thanos, because I did not break.”

The walls listened to his speech in stony silence. But when he had finished speaking, he could almost hear distant laughter, echoing off the ruined walls of the throne room, echoing into the stars that studded the chasm of a sky.

()()()

“Is it time?” The Other asked, silkily, its fingers moving as if it was playing an invisible piano. “Has it been long enough?”

“You should not be so impatient,” Thanos replied, lounging casually on his throne, examining a grape he was holding in his hand. “These things take time.”

“Surely _you_ do not desire to wait any longer, either? He is already fragile. Master, it will work if we do it now. This is his punishment; we should not give him any more reprieve.”

Thanos squished the grape, and it ran like blood down his wrist. “I know.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Then tell them. I will be there soon.”

Once The Other was gone, Thanos allowed himself to smile. It turned into a grin, and then into quiet, rumbling laughter that spilled from his lips. He flicked the grape’s carcass away. Time to finally break his Jotun pet. Time to claim his reward.

()()()

They came for him at night. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, the sky was the deep blue of twilight. Loki was watching the colors rise and fall like bruises on skin when they came.

Thor did not bother knocking. He entered boisterously, with an unnaturally wide grin on his face. Why was he so happy? 

Loki brushed the thought aside. He couldn’t help himself, he smiled back. It was the last time he would smile for a long time. “Hello, Thor. What do you want?”

Frigga followed Thor. And Odin. Loki looked up sharply, to see few other warriors he vaguely recognized follow them, and the healer from yesterday. He shifted to face them, warily. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t keep from wanting to run. Why were they all here?

Thor’s grin disappeared, his eyes narrowed. He climbed onto the bed beside Loki, and put his hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms, to his waist. Loki felt a sharp pang of panic, and he put his hands on Thor’s, trying to remove them. “What are you doing?”

“How were these past two days?” Thor asked. “Did you have fun?”

Loki swallowed. “Stop touching me. What’s going on?”

Thor did not reply. Instead, he tightened his grip on Loki’s waist. Loki pushed against his chest, but Thor did not move - he was like a solid rock, with that frozen, possessive smile on his face. 

The other people in the room did not react when Loki glanced at them, silently begging for help. He didn’t know why he was so scared - it was only Thor, and Thor wouldn’t try to hurt him, he was probably just trying to be comforting. But Loki was scared. He wanted nothing more than to run, but they were blocking the door.

_They were blocking the door._

Loki’s heart thudded in his chest.

“Stop,” he said, pushing Thor’s hands away. But they returned, exploring every inch of him, his collarbone, his neck, his chest, and they drifted lower, searching. Alarms fired off in Loki’s head, screaming, _“This is wrong this is wrong something’s so wrong.”_ Loki jerked away, standing. “Stop!” he cried, even as the books melted away before his eyes. The rose in the vase beside his bed wilted and turned to smoke. The sun went out.

No, no, no. He was having a nightmare. This wasn’t real. He was just having a nightmare. Any second now he would wake up in his bed with light streaming in through his window. This wasn’t real.

Claustrophobia threatened to suffocate him, when Thor left the bed and advanced slowly towards him, making him back up towards where the others were blocking the door. His heart drummed in his chest. He made a cut-off whimpering sound in his throat when Thor grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. This _couldn’t_ be happening.

“Thor!” he protested, when Thor’s greedy hands began once again to explore his body. Thor grinned like a devil. “Mother!” Loki cried, turning desperate eyes to Frigga.

She was smiling.

Loki’s breathing sounded like he was choking - jagged, hiccuping things that darted out of his lungs. He tried again to push Thor away but Frigga stepped forward and pinned his arms behind his back. Loki gasped and writhed in her grip, kicking, but her hands were like iron.

Chitauri hands.

He drove his knee into her side. She recoiled in a jerky, heavy way, so unlike his mother, and her fist connected with the side of his head. “No!” he shouted. “You can’t, you can’t, you _can’t_! Stop, let me go! Let me go!”

The room had turned to four dark walls. Familiar dark walls. The walls of his cell, the place he had been lying two days ago when Thor rescued him. He couldn’t be back here.

A nightmare.

He was trapped in a nightmare.

He had to be. Otherwise, he… he couldn’t go on.

So he ignored the pain that throbbed through his head, and he ignored the palpable pangs of panic that kept thrumming through his body, driving sharp spikes through his chest. He ignored the fact that he could _hear_ himself screaming, and feel the horrible warmth of Thor’s hands, everywhere all at once, in so many places they shouldn’t be.

This wasn’t true. This wasn’t true.

He won. He got away. He was safe and protected and he had a life to live, and he had finally gotten another chance to live it. A beautiful, precious chance, a chance he didn’t deserve but he had it, he could feel it, taste it, he could hear it singing to him… This couldn’t be true, this couldn’t be, this couldn’t be… 

If it was true, then he was going to break.

But Thor kept grabbing him, kept touching him, kept grinning. Thor’s hands clutched his shirt and lifted it off, he ran his hands over Loki’s chest. Loki begged, he pleaded, pathetically whimpering, “Please, please _Thor_ , Thor, why are you doing this? Stop. Stop. Please, stop.”

But Thor didn’t.

His right hand wrapped around Loki’s wrists. Loki glanced desperately back at Frigga, who had stepped away. “Mother,” he said. “Father… anyone, _please_ , what’s going on? I don’t understand, I…”

“I think you do understand,” Thor murmured, running his fingers gently along Loki’s jawline, turning his head. “Oh, whatever happened to your brilliant mind? You should have figured this out ages ago. Perhaps you were always a stupid little runt.”

Loki could not struggle. He was frozen in front of Thor - not Thor, but it looked like him, and that was so much worse - and tears rose up in his throat, burning behind his eyes. 

“No,” Loki whispered. “I can’t… I can’t. I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can, Laufeyson,” Thor - or whatever it was - murmured. Its groping hand moved downward - too close, _too close_ \- and Loki’s breath hitched, he backed away but it followed him, and his back hit the wall, claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm him, panic making him unable to breathe. The others all fanned out, watching with dark eyes. Unwillingly, Loki whimpered again, a small noise in the back of his throat, but its smile widened when it heard it.

“Please,” Loki said, shaking his head. “Please. Please.”

It trailed its fingers across his thigh. “Finally, you beg. See, Laufeyson? My plan has worked. I have broken you.”

_Thanos._

Loki was too terrified to do anything but stare, but shake and try to breathe. 

Thanos’ hand - _Thor’s hand_ \- drifted lower, and grabbed, grabbed onto something that it should never touch. Loki twisted in his grip, writhing as something sickeningly like _pleasure_ overcame him in hot, sticky waves and he couldn’t… couldn’t think, his mind wasn’t working, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could do nothing as the thing with his brother’s face grinned, clamped its hands down on his shoulders, and pushed him to his knees.

They hit the ground with a _thud_ , the most horrible sound Loki had ever heard.

“ _Kurteisisorð, kurteisisorð_ ,” he said, pleading, as tears fell, burning their way down his cheeks. “Please, please, I can’t, I can’t do this, please…”

But no one listened.

No one cared.

And it was just a nightmare. Not real. Because if it was real, he would fall apart.

Just a nightmare, he told himself, as it pulled its cock out of its pants and he stared at it, stomach churning with dread, bile rising up his throat, about to throw up. 

But he couldn’t think. It didn’t work to tell himself in his mind, he had to say it, he had to recite it, out loud, over and over until it became real.

“Just a nightmare,” he whispered. “A nightmare. A nightmare. _Martröð. Vinsamlegast vakna_.”

It grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. Pain shot through his head and he was forced to look up at Thor’s grinning face. “This is no nightmare, Laufeyson,” it said. “This is what we promised you. A new kind of suffering.” Its expression softened. “No need to cry,” it said, reaching down to rub its finger against his cheek, wiping his tears away. 

Loki flinched but did not have the strength to resist, did not have the strength to do anything but plead. “ _Kurteisisorð_. Please.”

It jerked up on his hair, forcing his head level again. “You’ll get used to this eventually. It is a fitting place for you, on your knees before me. Open your mouth.”

Loki shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t do it.”

Its knee hit him in the jaw, and his head cracked against the wall. Loki whimpered against the explosion of pain in his head, and the whimper turned into a sob, as more tears burned and fell from his eyes.

“Learn your place, Frost Giant runt. Obey, like the dog you are. Do as you are told.”

Loki closed his eyes, swallowed his tears. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He was numb, and he was burning. Dread settled heavily in his stomach. He was spinning and he was going to throw up.

He fought for his anger, for his words, his thoughts. The secret places in his mind. He fought for it, and he lost. There was nothing there, he was flailing through the dark. There was nothing left. He felt empty. _This couldn’t be true._

And yet it was. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

He embraced the comforting darkness of the insides of his eyelids. And he imagined himself happy, as he had been earlier, lying in bed, hugging the pillow to his chest, safe and protected and happy and with a life to live.

Tears fell like flames.

He heaved a trembling breath.

And he did as he was told.

()()()

About halfway through, the thing in his mouth grew. He gagged on it. He gagged, and he barely had time to pull away before vomiting all over himself, all over the floor, and all over its cock and its thighs.

The hands in his hair were larger, now. They jerked his head up, and he found himself looking at Thanos. The illusion of Thor was gone. 

He vomited again - his shoulders heaving, unable to turn his face away, so his vomit spilled down his chest. More tears fell from his eyes, hot and burning. He was dizzy, numb, spinning, he was crashing down. He couldn’t stop crying.

He had heard of people hiding themselves away within their minds, able to conjure up some sort of secret place and lay there and wait for the horror to pass. And he tried, he tried to hard to run away to his room in the palace, to lay there and listen to the birds and smell the flowers and lose himself in the pages of a book. But instead of birds, he heard hoarse laughter. Instead of flowers, he smelled vomit. And instead of losing himself in a book, he was losing himself in the terrifying feeling of falling, of sinking, of knowing that he had lost.

He had lost.

He was going to break here, in the dark.

Thanos knelt, and faced him with those deep set eyes, full of false sorrow. “I am sorry, Laufeyson,” he murmured, running his fingers along Loki’s jawline while he sobbed. His hand moved to his shoulder, to his back, rubbing circles into his skin. “But you should have obeyed.”

They emerged out of the darkness. They had shed their false skins, and were Chitauri once more. And they were coming for him. Panic turned him into a cowering mess - he scrambled away but there was nowhere to go.

“Shh,” Thanos soothed, holding him in place with a firm hand on his shoulder, the other gently moving his hair out of his face. “Don’t look at them. Don’t worry.”

Loki’s trembling eased a bit at the gentle touch. He closed his eyes, drew his knees up to his chest, buried his face in his arms. 

They beat him with fists and feet, punching and kicking him into the ground. He curled up on his side and sobbed until he had to scream, and screamed until he lost his voice. But through it all, Thanos continued to softly stroke his hair, his cheeks, his jaw, to murmur comforting words. 

When it was over, he hauled Loki back up to his knees, and stood, towering over him again.

“You vomited on me,” Thanos said. “Clean up your mess. I don’t want to touch any part of your filth.”

Loki cried. He couldn’t stop crying. But he dragged his eyes once more to the cock that hung out of Thanos’ pants, smeared with cum and blood and chunks of vomit. 

He reached up.

“No,” Thanos said. He kicked Loki in the stomach, and Loki whimpered, curling in on himself, crossing his arms tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I never said you could use your hands.”

Loki swayed slightly, like a tree bending in the wind, about to fall. He didn’t have enough energy to remain upright. But Thanos grabbed his jaw, prying his mouth open.

“And while you’re at it, finish the job,” he said.

Loki sobbed, once. Breathed. 

In his mind, he was reading, he was turning pages and magic danced from his fingertips.

And then _it_ was in his mouth again and it tasted like acid and his dinner and salt and he wondered if they would kill him if he threw up again.

When it was over, Thanos picked him up gently, cradling him to his chest, and laid him carefully on the bed - for the bed had remained, although the rest of Loki’s things were gone. He draped a thin blanket over his shoulders, and tucked a pillow beneath his head.

His footsteps receded. He was gone. They were gone.

Loki vomited again. Retching into the dark, hugging his stomach, sobbing. And when he was done vomiting, he moved slowly, painfully down from the bed, and into the corner, where he curled into himself and clutched his pillow, listening as his panicked breathing slowed. Comforted, slightly, by the two walls at his back.

But Loki could not sleep. He was too afraid that they would come back in the middle of the night to hurt him again, to catch him by surprise. And his mouth tasted of vomit. He was too disgusted by himself to do anything but lie there, trying to forget.

So he lay awake, staring into darkness. 

He did not recite anything. He just lay there, shivering, sobbing silently into the pillow he was clutching to his chest.

This was what it must be like to be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wasn't that fun! What a totally Clever and Unexpected Plot Twist. I'm sure you were extremely shocked by it. Very, very shocked.  
> Anyway don't hesitate to leave a comment, because I will hug you against your will, and we all... want that. (But seriously, do leave a comment because they keep me alive better than food does. And if I live longer, then I can write more depraved fanfiction for you. See? We're all winners here.)  
> Oh, and if you want a lil spoiler bunny - TAKE HEART! The next chapter is from someone ELSE'S *wink. wink* POV. And I'll give you a hint as to who it is - he swears like a motherfucking sailor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmahgawd I love you all sooo much. I’m getting so many comments on this! And I am NOT sure what that says about this site - that this (hopefully) eternal gut punch to the stomach in literary form has become so popular, but I’m definitely not complaining! Thank you all soooooooo much! :)  
> As for the chapter… we’ve finally reached the events of the summary, so Tony’s here to save the day! Yeayyyyy! So y’all can take those moldy chicken nuggets from last week and shove that shit down your gullet, because there’s nothing bad in here aside from Loki’s constant state of feverish panic, but that was present in the last chapter and was wayyy worse there so y’all should be fine. And at the very least, eat ‘em for me, because I’m hungry lol, and I’m gonna go ahead and live vicariously through your hypothetical chicken nugget binge eating sessions.  
> And my hint for this chapter’s POV was that he swears like a sailor, and when I said that I didn’t even realize that literally the first thing Tony does in this chapter is swear, which I found kinda funny.  
> Anyway.  
> On to the angst!

Tony swore when he saw who was calling.

“What do you want?” he asked, as he carefully tried to get out of bed without disturbing the sleep of the beautiful woman he had met last night (he thought her name was Jennifer? Jemima? Something with a ‘J’) which was easier said than done, considering that his right arm was trapped under her bare shoulder, and had gone completely numb.

_“Red alert, Stark. Get your ass over to HQ, and don’t even think about skipping. This isn’t History class.”_

“I was good in History,” Tony muttered, as he pulled on a pair of shorts. He walked to the mirror, messed with his hair a bit, eyed the bite mark on his neck with distaste. She had been a biter. Bit his neck several times, his shoulder, his jawline. Of course, he was a fan of a certain brand of feisty, but it got a little weird when she started biting his earlobe. What interested her so much about his ear?

Maybe it was just that he wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Pepper had never been a biter, after all.

He scowled at his reflection.

_“I don’t give a damn. Spare me your whining. Just be here in ten.”_

“Ten?” Tony echoed incredulously, leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and sticking the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could put on a shirt.

Oh, wait. He forgot to bring a shirt.

_“Yes, ten. This is not a joke. You’ll want to be there.”_

“Will I,” Tony said, sarcastically. “Hold that thought, chief.” He went back into his bedroom, and grabbed a t-shirt out of a drawer. It was plain and black and boring. He set the phone down, put it on, and grabbed the phone again, before leaving for the second time.

“I’ll have you know, that I just woke up. And I’m a gentleman. I’m not gonna leave this random girl in _my_ bed, to be all confused when she wakes up.” He went into the bathroom, and rooted around in a drawer for bandaids.

_“Then slap a sticky note on her forehead. This is more important than your manners.”_

“Just tell me what happened.” He stuck the bandaid on his neck, and eyed it disapprovingly. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t guess what it was covering. Eh. Whatever.

_“No. You know as well as I do that this line isn’t necessarily secure.”_

Tony smirked. “True. I do know that.” 

_“Then_ get _over here.”_

“Fine.”

Fury hung up.

When Tony arrived at SHIELD, there was a small group of very dangerous people waiting for him in the parking lot. Fury, of course, but also Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Steve, and three SHIELD agents.

Natasha was standing in the front. After all, she was probably the most dangerous among them.

Tony lowered the window, and took off his sunglasses, rather dramatically. “Nine minutes,” he said.

“Is that a hickey?” Natasha asked.

Tony waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Maybe. Maybe not. What’s it to..”

“Can it, Stark,” Fury muttered. “Just follow us inside.”

()()()

“So, what’s this, then?” Tony asked Bruce, as they followed the rest through SHIELD’s convoluted maze of a headquarters, with two SHIELD agents tailing them. 

Bruce adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat. “I don’t know,” he said. “Fury wouldn’t tell us. Something about safety issues, blah blah. BS. Whatever the real reason is, he’s not telling. Whatever this _thing_ is, apparently we have to see it to believe it.”

“Ah.”

Weird.

Steve leaned in to interrupt their conversation, which Tony did not support. But his input was actually helpful, so he grudgingly decided to support it again. “Whatever it is, it’s in the High Security Vault.”

Oh, yeah. Tony probably should have noticed that, because of the huge fucking sign on the wall that read, ‘High Security Vault.’ But he didn’t notice, so kudos to Steve for telling him, although it just brought up more questions.

Mostly, the same questions he had had earlier. Just multiplied ten times.

“Huh,” Bruce said.

Relatable.

Fury punched in a passcode, pressed his thumbprint on a scanner, and leaned down to let a light shine on his eyeball. _Then_ he turned the circular handle.

“Jesus,” Tony muttered.

As it turned out, the High-Security Vault was one room.

Just one.

They all filed in, and found themselves staring at a sheet of glass, inches from their faces. It looked like a really bad mirror, because Tony could faintly see his reflection. Beyond the glass was nothing but darkness. A one-way mirror?

Oh, and there was a bright green light on the right, about the size of an apple.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Snazzy.” 

“This is a prison cell,” Fury announced. “And there is a prisoner inside.”

What a surprise.

Of course the thing Fury had to show them was a person. Of course. Because SHIELD was creepy like that. Always edging a bit too close to the shady side. The super shady side. About as shady as this fucking black nothing that Tony was staring at.

“Show us,” Steve said.

Tony had been about to say something like that. He scowled. “Yeah,” he added, uselessly.

Fury glanced at them. He raised his hand.

And the lights turned on.

At first, Tony’s eyes were drawn to the bright green light, and to the hands that were wrapped around it. It was almost mesmerizing.

And then he heard everyone shouting.

“What the hell?”

“Why is _he_ here?”

And he looked up.

Oh.

What?

It was _Loki_.

Loki, sitting in the corner, glaring at them.

But that made no sense. 

Hadn’t he been locked up in Asgard two months ago? Why was he here, all of a sudden? And why was he guarding that green thing like it was his child? All hunched over it, gripping it tightly, tense. His chest rose and fell jerkily, and there was blood on his face, blood in his clothes.

But his eyes.

Feral.

Almost animal, with rage.

“Don’t worry,” Fury said. “Once we get the green power source and analyze it, we’re going to kill him. As soon as we can. Probably tomorrow. Asgard didn’t punish him properly, so now it’s our turn. But that’s why I called you. I need to know what that thing is, and I don’t want any of my agents dead. I think you should be able to get it.”

Translation: If I have to sacrifice someone, I’d rather sacrifice you instead. Cause I’m shady as fuck.

And distantly, Tony heard Bruce and Steve arguing about that, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Loki’s face.

He had never been that angry, not even when he was attacking a city.

But the child analogy seemed pretty on point. It wasn’t rage, it was a protective anger. A desperate, protective anger.

And why was he bloody?

Tony knew he should be more focused on hating the guy’s guts - and he did hate them - but hey, he was a scientist/engineer/whatever the fuck, and he was more interested in the why, and the how. So many questions were popping up in his head.

“How’d you get him?” he asked.

Fury turned to speak to him, but Tony didn’t look away from Loki to face him. He didn’t actually give a fuck about manners, that whole “waiting until she wakes up” thing had been a lie so he didn’t have to put normal-person clothes on.

“He was in Norway,” Fury said. That made sense, because Loki was a Norse god, so of _course_ he would be in Norway. “At first he talked. Kept repeating the same word over and over: ‘ _Lygari_ ’. But he hasn’t talked for hours. And hasn’t said anything other than that.” 

“Weird,” Tony said.

“Very. And this green thing had… tendrils, like vines. Going into him. But when we got there, they all retreated. Made him bleed more, and breathe weird, when they did that. He’s still breathing weird. And bleeding.”

“Huh.”

The others were all muttering amongst each other, about how much they wanted to murder the guy, but Tony kept asking Fury questions, although he looked annoyed about it. “How’d you transport him here?”

“Helicopter.”

“And why didn’t he blow you to smithereens? Doesn’t he have magic?”

“No clue.”

“So you want us to go in, get the Hulk egg, and then you’re just gonna kill him? Not even gonna find out what happened to him?”

“Do you want him to kill more people?” Fury raised his voice, and Bruce glanced at him nervously. “Because that is what he will do. He escaped Asgard; I’m certain he can escape this cell, given enough time. It’s a wonder he hasn’t already, and I’m going to take advantage of that, while I still can.”

It made sense.

But still.

Ah, well. Tony had been itching for something to do for days, something other than have sex, drink, and mope around. The green, glowing orb intrigued him. The fact that Loki was here intrigued him even more, although it also inspired a healthy amount of hatred. After all, the guy was shitty. He killed Coulson.

_But still._

It was interesting, wasn’t it?

And while everyone else seemed more focused on being angry - ranting about the smug look on his face (“I’m gonna either Hulk out and snap his neck, or march in there as myself and snap his neck with my bare hands”), venting about Asgard’s lack of organization (“Can’t even keep track of their serial killers!”) or busy sporting a brand-new blank stare (Clint had clammed up, and gone completely still), Tony instead said, “I’ll go in.”

“What?” Bruce asked. “Why?” 

Tony shrugged. “I want to.”

He didn’t have to explain himself.

He wasn’t sure that he could.

He glanced at Fury. Nodded. Fury had that what-the-hell-are-you-thinking look in his eyes, accompanied by an I-didn’t-think-you’d-actually-be-stupid-enough-to-agree-to-do-this look, but it seemed that he wanted to take advantage of this, too, while he still could, because all he said was, “Get in the cell, then.”

Well. That was straightforward.

Tony put his sunglasses on. 

Bruce groaned. “You. You are _so_ …”

“Hold that thought,” Tony said, interrupting him. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I’ve heard it before.” He turned to Fury with a flourish, grinning. “I’m ready.” Ready as I’ll ever be.

Perhaps he hadn’t woken up properly yet. Was that why he was agreeing to do this? He wasn’t normally as self-destructive after he had had a few cups of coffee, after all.

Fury reached for the door before anyone could gather their thoughts quickly enough to protest. He tapped something on a screen on the wall with his other hand, and he bent down so it could scan his eye again. This time, it got his thumbprint, as well as his pointer-print, and middle-finger print. Fury swung the door open, and it opened silently. Well-oiled. 

Tony nodded at him. And he stepped inside.

Fury closed the door behind him, which was unnerving. Reminded him of a shitty horror movie, where the protagonist enters the haunted mansion and suddenly the door slams shut behind them.

No time for stupid references.

Get your head in the game, Stark.

(If he did that, it would be a first.)

Nevertheless, Tony gave a valiant effort. He straightened, stuck one of his hands in his pocket - which was not just a pocket, of course. Instantly, a repulsor folded over his palm, and he was armed. 

He relaxed. Which was weird, because he hadn’t realized that he had been nervous. But now, it felt a million times easier to approach the guy who was sitting cross-legged in the corner, bent over that green thing like it was the most important object in the world.

Tony glanced behind him. All he could see was himself. As he had guessed, it was one-way glass. Winning.

Tony looked away from it and started walking towards Loki.. Loki’s eyes had not left him once, and if Tony wasn’t mistaken (which he never was), he was trying to draw away, like he wanted to become part of the wall.

Tony didn’t like that.

It felt weird.

Add to that the fact that Loki was sitting in the corner, obviously trying to hide, as all scared people would. And that he was failing at hiding, which was only making him more terrified.

Yes, Loki was terrified.

It wasn’t as if Tony was going to pretend that he couldn’t see it.

Loki looked like he was fighting to calm down. Fighting, and losing. He kept sucking in deep breaths only for them to crumble into something like hyperventilation. He was pressing the green thing against his chest, pressing his back against the wall, pulling his knees up to form a barrier between them.

Tony approached slowly, and crouched in front of him, holding up his hand (the one without the repulsor), in the universal gesture for, _“Hey, there. I’m not gonna hurt you.”_

Then he held it out, palm-up. “Give it to me.”

Loki’s eyes flashed. That was rage. Tony hadn’t seen rage often, so it surprised him, it made him pause, it made him have to fight back an irrational urge to run away. 

He had never seen that in Loki’s eyes before, not even when he was fighting in New York.

But it wasn’t like he knew the guy very well.

“Give it to me,” he repeated, louder.

Loki’s breathing picked up speed. His hands were shaking around the green, glowing thing.

Tony knew what this was. He knew exactly what was going on.

So he stood up, and he came closer, leaning down so that his head was almost right above Loki’s, looking down at him. Appear threatening. Scare him. Make him think you’re gonna hurt him.

And swallow down the bile that’s rising up in your throat.

Tony clapped his hand down on Loki’s shoulder, almost a slap, making him jerk. Flinch. Yeah, Tony was right.

Loki melted beneath his hand. Turned into something small, something wrong, something he should never be. “ _Kurteisisorð_ ,” he said. “ _Þetta er mitt._ It’s mine. It’s _mine_.”

So he speaks.

But it wasn’t the voice that Tony remembered. Now, he sounded desperate. Almost like he was pleading.

Okay.

This was…

Tony stopped. Deciding to change tactics, he crouched down again, inches from Loki’s face, staring at him. Searching him. And Loki stared back at him. Anyone who couldn’t see, anyone who didn’t _know_ , would think he was just scared. And it seemed that way, by the way he was practically hyperventilating, shaking. By the way it sounded like he was _begging_.

Tony winced.

But, no. That wasn’t all. Beneath the fear, he was furious. Each breath was sharp. He wasn’t shaking with fear - at least, not only with fear. He was radiating adrenaline, radiating protectiveness over this green ball of kryptonite, radiating the urge to reach up and strangle Tony.

Nothing could be simple where Loki was involved, could it?

“Who hurt you?” Tony murmured, removing his hand from Loki’s shoulder, using it to take off his sunglasses and tuck them in his pocket. “Whoever it was, I can’t decide whether to gift them with a nice, shiny Lamborghini, or use said Lamborghini to run them over and leave them all flattened on the highway.”

After all, this was Loki. And anything that made Loki less dangerous had to be a good thing, right?

Even just thinking it made him feel dirty. Because he knew it was wrong.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this?” he asked, tracing the circle of the repulsor that lay on the back of his right hand. 

Loki’s eyes kept darting down to Tony’s hands, to the green thing, and back up to Tony’s face. Tony was so busy watching them that he didn’t notice Loki open his mouth to speak. “Tell him...” Loki said. Then stopped.

Tony glanced at him sharply. “What? Tell who? Tell what? _What_?” 

Loki tried to shift away from him again, and hissed when his back rubbed against the wall. He put one hand on the ground to try to push himself back, and his hand left a smear of blood on the floor. Tony stared at it.

“Tell him what?” he asked, lowering his voice. He put his hand up again, _“I won’t hurt you,”_ and awkwardly crouch-stepped back. 

Loki’s shoulders relaxed slightly when Tony moved away. He licked his lips, and Tony wondered whether they had offered him anything to drink.

Probably not. 

They were going to kill him, after all.

They hadn’t even cleaned up the blood.

Tony flexed the fingers of his right hand. He traced the repulsor again. He glanced behind him, at the mirror. Then back at Loki. And he wondered… 

Well, he just wondered.

His mind, sorting through dozens of possible scenarios. Ways that the next several hours could play out. Which one of them was right.

Ever since Afghanistan, he had been good at coming up with plans. Options. Ways out. Escape routes. Like a reflex. 

Maybe Loki felt that, too. Probably.

“Tell him,” Loki said. “If you know him, then tell him, that if this is not… _er ekki lygi -_ not a lie, then I will… _mun rista_ , slash the skin from his bones…” his voice was thin, but held a captivating intensity, and Tony was glad that he wasn’t the ‘him’ Loki was referring to. “And he will beg, _fyrir_ _miskunn_ , for relief, for something as sweet as pain. And I…” he laughed, darkly, and Tony swallowed at the lack of humor in his eyes. “I will dangle it in front of his eyes, _eins og rautt kjöt_ ,” he spat the last word like it was blood, “And let it turn to ash in my hand.” He slammed one fist down against the floor, and Tony tensed. Loki slid his hand across the ground, leaving a trail of dirty red blood. “ _Og þegar hann grætur, mun ég hlæja_.”

“What does that mean?” Tony asked, quietly.

Loki’s face tightened, twitched, in annoyance. In anger. He flattened his palm against the bloody mark, he pushed himself away from the wall, rising into a crouch. “That when he cries, I will laugh.”

Tony searched his eyes. Looked back down at the blood, and at the frantic rise and fall of Loki’s chest. He looked for a very long time.

 _“Stark.”_ Fury’s voice crackled over a hidden loudspeaker. _“Get the green. We don’t have time to waste.”_

“Will do,” Tony said, although the more time he spent here, the more certain he was that he was going to do nothing of the sort.

This was unexpected. This was something unprecedented, unannounced, this was a million possibilities, and that made it something that Tony couldn’t leave to die. Add to that the fact that this was a living, breathing, obviously traumatized person…

No, no, he couldn’t leave Loki to die.

(What a strange thought.)

God. _Torture_. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Why couldn’t Tony have gone on hating Loki in peace? Just shove him to the back of his mind, and occasionally glue his face to the wall and throw darts at it? Why did _this_ have to happen?

Because now the guy who had tried to attack New York was gasping for air, like he was failing at treading water. He kept closing his eyes, kept taking these huge, heaving breaths. Now, the guy who had attacked New York was hurt, and terrified. Now, Tony had to help the guy who had attacked New York.

But Fury should have seen this coming. In fact, he should never have sent Tony in at all. Because if he thought that Tony was going to pretend he hadn’t noticed, that he hadn’t seen the signs, the little things that reminded him so eerily of himself, and just let Loki die… well, then he didn’t know Tony at all.

Let him die. Let him die, without a trial, without a chance to explain himself. Without even giving him a glass of water, or food. Without even treating his wounds. They were going to let him die soaked in blood.

Ha!

As if Tony Stark would agree to that.

But this wouldn’t be as easy as grabbing him and blasting through the wall. They could track him, and they had missiles and shit. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Nope. He had to have a plan. And he did.

So, for the moment, this was gonna hurt.

“Give it to me,” he said. Making it an order. Holding out his hand.

Wincing, when Loki flinched. The rage didn’t disappear but he flinched anyway, like it was automatic, ingrained into him, to flinch when someone came close to touching him. And he drew away again, glaring, holding the green thing to his chest. “No,” he spat. “No. _Aldrei. ég drep þig._ ”

The way he said it, with murder in his voice - Tony didn’t have to ask for a translation.

But he reached out and grabbed Loki’s hand anyway. He tried to jerk away but Tony didn’t let him, and fear flooded into his eyes again, wild and wretched and oh-so-wrong. Tony had to fight through the sudden feeling of guilt, but it was hard to keep himself from letting go.

He tore the repulsor off his hand, now using both his hands to try to pry Loki’s fingers apart. But Loki had the advantage, because he was protecting something and he was desperate, and Tony was just putting on a reluctant show for Fury.

“Goddammit,” he said. “Just cooperate. It’ll be so much easier. You have no idea.”

But Loki had never been the type to cooperate.

Loki’s knee came out of nowhere. It hit Tony in the stomach, and he made a sound like a balloon losing air, as he doubled over and lost his grip on Loki’s hands. Instantly, Loki was on top of him, with his hands wrapped around his throat. 

Ah, but he was used to this.

He may not be a biter, but he had participated in his fair share of similar kinks. 

Not that there had ever been a chance of imminent death, before. 

At least, he hoped not.

Anyway.

He swung his legs up and kicked Loki right in the stomach, pushing him up and away, throwing him against the wall.

And Loki did not scream, did not make a sound, nothing but a sharp intake of breath, and a brief flash of pain in his eyes. 

Which meant that it probably hurt like a bitch.

Behind him, he heard footsteps. He hadn’t even heard the door open. Well-oiled, and all that shit.

He whirled around. It was Nat. She shot him a glare, and stalked past him, crouching down and pinning Loki against the wall. He writhed in her grip, growled low in his throat, clawed at her arms. But this didn’t seem to effect her, of course, because she was a fucking creepy-ass SHIELD assassin. In fact, all her attention was on Tony.

“Well, smart-ass. Why don’t you _get_ it?” she said, with a smirk on her heavily-lipsticked face.

Tony fought the urge to groan. He grabbed Loki’s hand, the one that was balled into a fist. It was hard to grab, because it was moving so fast, heading right for his face, and also because he had to reach awkwardly around Nat’s arm to get it. But once he had his hand wrapped around Loki’s fist, Loki turned desperate. He kept practically throwing himself against Natasha, trying to hit her, kick her, hurt anything within his reach. His teeth even clamped down on Natasha’s wrist, and she hissed, slamming his head back against the wall.

Tony had to use both his hands, and a hell of a lot of effort, to pry Loki’s hands open. The green thing fell to the ground, and Loki snarled when it did. “No!” he cried, and his voice was the most raw and desperate thing Tony had ever heard. “Give it back! Give it to me! _ég drep þig_! I will rip you apart!”

“Asshole,” Natasha muttered.

But couldn’t she see that this was just a mask? That the fear was the thing that was real, and that it was buried just slightly beneath the surface? That he was only shouting because he knew that if he stopped he would start to _beg_ again?

She shoved him against the wall, and his face contorted with pain, and...

“Stop,” Tony said.

Maybe she realized what she was doing, because her eyes widened slightly, and she moved away from him like he was going to burn her. Or maybe she just didn’t want to get her hands bloody. But, instantly, her face was neutral again. She stood. “You’re right. We’re just wasting time,” she said. “Let’s go;”

Loki’s eyes followed her briefly, then snapped down to Tony. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t lunge after them, trying to attack. Instead, he seemed to crumble. The fear shone through, again. Fists clenching, shaking, in his lap. “I need it,” he said. “I _need_ it. Give it back.”

Tony hated seeing him like this.

 _Why_? Wasn’t it better to have a cowering, begging Loki, than a laughing, dangerous one?

Well? Wasn’t it?

Tony couldn’t answer the voice in his head.

He couldn’t say anything to Loki to reassure him, because Natasha would hear, or it would be caught on one of the secret cameras that were probably littered throughout the place. He considered saying something cutting, just to ensure that they wouldn’t suspect what he was planning, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Anyway, it wasn’t like Fury would suspect him.

Don’t worry, we’ve got him wrapped around our fingers. He may be a genius, but in the end, it’s not like he can really think for himself, is it? 

Tony Stark, not thinking for himself.

The idea was laughable.

Tony allowed Loki to search his eyes for a moment longer. _Breathe_ , he wanted to say, because Loki wasn’t doing a very good job at that.

Although, it wasn’t like telling him to breathe was going to make it any easier.

“Give it back,” Loki said. “You don’t understand. I need it. Give it back.” He heaved a deep breath. “...Please.”

 _I’ll try_ , he wanted to say. But he couldn’t say that, and he wasn’t sure if it was true.

So he said nothing, and stood and walked away instead, leaving Loki there to hyperventilate alone, staring at his empty hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, there’ll be comfort eventually. If it makes you feel better, I’m actually writing fluff right now. And I’m trying REALLY hard not to turn it into a pile of angst. I’m not sure if I’ll succeed. I’ve already failed several times.  
> Hahahah and if that doesn’t inspire confidence in you, I don’t know what will.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say pain? This chapter has so much pain. For Loki, for Tony, for you… but not for me, because I’m a sadistic bitch and I enjoyed writing this very much. Mwahah.  
> (I just... I can't get over how angsty this thing is. Like, I can't believe I'm writing it. And that this came from my own mind. I'm disturbed by myself.)  
> This was beta read by DocWordsmith - over on FF.Net. I think I forgot to thank them in these past few chapters but they've beta read every one. And they're awesome, so. Yep.  
> Oh and thanks to y'all for your comments, once again! You guys are amazing. If I had a vault full of cookies, I would open the vault and personally deliver a cookie to each and every one of you. With a gluten free option, of course. Cause I'm nice like that.  
> Anyway byeee enjoy the pain!

After a long several minutes, Loki was finally able to calm himself down enough to begin to process what had happened.

Of course, by then, he was already in agony.

The hollowness had slowly returned, and he accidentally grunted when the pain arrived, a pain like he had been hit by Mjolnir. It had taken days of nurturing his magic before it was strong enough to provide some relief to the pain. It had taken mere moments to undue all the progress, mere moments to bring the pain back. 

His back became slick with blood again. After all, his magic had never regained the strength to  _ heal _ him in that short time, just to make it so he wouldn’t feel it. So now he was bleeding out again.

Loki found that he couldn’t hold himself up.  _ Hungry. _ He groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach. 

But the worst thing was that emptiness within himself, that yawning void. He reached into it, trying to find something, anything, but there was nothing. 

He coughed violently, and each cough made him curl up tighter, arms wrap closer around his chest. Blood in his mouth. He spat it onto the floor. Again and again. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand (which was already bloody) and wiped his hand on his shirt. One by one, the bruises came to life again, dull with pain. 

Blood ran from between his legs, red-hot. He whimpered, then bit his lip to silence it. He sank his teeth in deeper, trying to distract himself from the feeling, but he couldn’t, it was too hot, too humiliating…

And he remembered to breathe. Breathe. Huge, shaky breaths, just try, just breathe, you just have to breathe, breathe, breathe. 

That’s it. That’s everything. No pain beyond this.

But this was almost too much.

All because his magic was gone. Again.  _ Gone. Again. _

He slammed his fist hard against the wall. He wanted to scream, scream to whatever gods or mortals or Chitauri or cruel weavers of fate might be watching. Wanted to scream, like he had so long ago, when he momentarily regained his voice, screaming,  _ “Fuck you!” _ at Thanos.

He spit out blood. It spattered on the floor.

What was the point? What was the fucking  _ point _ of this? Did Thanos truly think that Loki would fall for it again?

No.

When he finally got his magic back, when he cradled it in his hands and pressed his lips to its withered, dead surface, he had known that it wasn’t real. When he ran from the cell and into the farthest reaches of Thanos’ planet, when - after days of huddling in the dark - he was finally strong enough to teleport away, met by bright light and beautiful  _ cold _ , he had known it wasn’t real. When Stark came in and ripped his magic out of his hands, Loki knew that if he hadn’t been too busy panicking, he would have started to laugh. 

Thanos didn’t know.

He thought he had to do it all over  _ again _ , because he was foolish enough to think that there was some part, however deep down in the sickly recesses of Loki’s mind, that hadn’t broken yet. 

He wondered how long Thanos would allow him to stay here, in the false comfort of solitude, of cold, of brightness. He wondered what it would take for Thanos to think that he had succeeded. He wondered when it would all turn to smoke.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of his shirt against his back - like fire. A line of blood, warm and wrong, ran down his leg, to his ankle. He opened his eyes to look at it, and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was sickly, it was humiliating, it was disgusting, disgusting.

He let his head fall back against the wall, raised his eyes to the ceiling. Breathe, breathe, but all he could manage was to gasp.

“There is a little fish,” he said, and he smiled, because he could remember Frigga murmuring this one to him, in some long forgotten garden, as he sat in her lap and giggled at the apples that grew overhead.  _ Baby, pay attention, I am telling you a story.  _ “And it lives in a cave of coral. It grows silently, at first, until it is big enough to eat.

“There are other fish there, too. It gobbles them up. And it thinks that this - food, and the coral cave - is all it will ever need.

“But it grows lonely,  _ elskan. _ So one day, when it comes upon another fish, swimming through the coral, it does not eat. Instead, it swims along with that fish. They swim together for a long time, until the little fish grows hungry again. He eats his new friend. 

“The little fish cries about this. He misses his friend. But he eats, and eats, and eats. And then he stops eating, he becomes friends with new fish. As many fish as he can find. But always, he grows hungry. Always he has to eat. Always, he ends up crying.

“Until he meets a final fish. His very best friend. And she gives him a piece of seaweed, and tells him, ‘Eat.’ He does. And they swim off together, forever.”

Not the true ending, of course.

No, in the true ending, the little fish eats himself.

And it is a metaphor. Those old scholars always thought they were so clever, with their metaphors.

Loki let out a shuddering breath. He should not have thought of Frigga. He should not have remembered her voice, her warm arms, her soft touch.

Her smile. Her wide, wild smile. Her hand on his wrists, pinning him there, even as the skin of her fingers melted away to expose rough gray skin and the sharp angles of bones. Backing away, letting Thor come nearer, and smiling as he did.

Loki closed his eyes.

He buried his face in his knees.

And he stayed like that until the door opened.

()()()

Loki tried to support himself against the wall with his bloody hands, tried to use them to pull himself up, as Stark walked in. But the act of trying to stand made his back hit the wall, made that fire burst to life again, and he had to bite down a scream.

Stark's eyes fluttered shut, briefly, as he sucked in a quiet breath. When he opened them again, he said, “I have it.”

What was this? What was going on?

Loki watched him warily.

Stark shook his head. Held out his palm. There was one of his circular weapons attached to it, pointed at Loki's face. Stark jerked his head towards the doorway. “Come with me.”

Loki stumbled to his feet, although pain stabbed through his back. It was an order, after all. They always hurt him more when he disobeyed their orders. He wouldn’t make that mistake now, he wouldn’t  _ fall for it. _

“Listen,” Stark said. “If you try to attack me, I’ll shoot you. If you try to run off, I’ll shoot you. I don’t want to shoot you. I want to get you the hell out of here. But you have to cooperate. Okay?”

Stark - the Chitauri - was letting him out of this cell? Well, that did make some kind of sense. What would be the fun in allowing Loki to get executed?

Loki nodded. “Yes.” A thin line of blood trickled into his eye, and he blinked it away.

Stark’s brow furrowed in confusion, and his eyes quickly scanned Loki’s body. “What the hell happened to you?”

_ You should know. You probably caused it. _

Instead, he said nothing, and he looked away from Stark to hide his glare. And then he banished the glare completely, replacing it with blankness. He looked back at Stark, in time to see him shake his head. “Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

Loki followed, obediently -  _ “The dog, trotting at his master’s heels… my pet.”  _ \- but he was barely able to keep his attention on Stark, because all he could think of was the moment when Stark’s flesh would melt away into gray, corded muscle, his face replaced by a blank mask, dead eyes.

Then Loki staggered.

He caught himself on the wall, but Stark seemed to take it upon himself to steady him, placing a supporting hand around his shoulders. And Loki should have let it rest there, because they didn’t like it when he refused their touches, but he jerked away from it anyway, and immediately tensed, bracing himself.

Stark stepped away from him, opened the door, and stepped through, gesturing for Loki to follow.

Loki hesitated.

“Come on,” Stark said, turning around. “I told you. I have your green rock. And I’m trying to save you from execution. If I was going to hurt you, this would  _ not  _ be the best way to do it.”

But Loki barely heard the rest of what Stark said. Because he had his magic. And Loki wanted it. He wanted it, because perhaps if he had it, he wouldn’t feel so strangely… empty.

And that was the trick, wasn’t it? They were trying to make him think that they were going to give his magic back, but they wouldn’t. They were just taunting him, giving him false hope.

Loki froze. He didn’t know what to do.

Make a plan. Make a plan already, you  _ idiot.  _ You always work better when you have someone to order you around.

If it isn’t real, then there’s nothing you can do. Assume that it's a trick, but act as if it's isn’t. Escape. Stay alive. Get your magic back. Then, if it is a lie, you won't be disappointed.

If it's real, then you will get your revenge.

Oh, revenge. It boiled within him, in his blood. And for once, he wasn't bothered by the heat.

So he followed Stark out of the cell.

Oh, poor, foolish mortal.

You  _ are _ making a big mistake, aren’t you?

Ah, but once Loki had his magic back… he would kill Stark, of course - he would have to. Or, even better, he could use his magic to control him, to make him the perfect soldier to aid him in his fight against Thanos.

Not a fight.

It would be slaughter.

Loki’s fingers flexed instinctively. Thanos’s throat in his fist; flesh breaking, cords snapping, blood gushing. Thanos gargling as he tried to beg for mercy.

And Loki would smile as his seidr flew to his fingertips.

He would make Thanos scream.

And how does it feel, oh mighty Titan, to suffer at the hands of this weakling, this monster, your Jotun dog turned against you? How does it feel?

He let his fingers relax.

_ Focus, fool. _

But suspicion kept him on edge. Why would Stark help him? Why save Loki from execution?

Probably, he didn’t think that execution would be a swift enough death for him. He was helping Loki escape SHIELD only to take him back to his tower and torture him.

It would be an improvement.

And Loki tried to pretend that it wasn’t true. That the thought of torture was still enough to chill his blood (although he never would have admitted it back then). He tried to pretend that if Stark turned around and punched him in the face, there wouldn’t be some sense of relief to accompany the pain, because at least that would make sense, would be familiar. 

He hated waiting. Waiting for it to happen.

So he did all that he could. He watched Stark’s every movement like a hawk, waiting to duck or dodge or lash out with an attack of his own, because despite the repulsor that was in Stark’s hand, he was still much more vulnerable than Thanos had ever been.

“Quiet,” Stark murmured. “I mean, the security system’s down, but I’m sure they’ve caught wind of that by now. So, better to still be quiet.”

He opened a door, and they stepped outside. 

The sky. The night sky, glittering with thousands of scars. A different sky. And any sky was preferable to the yawning abyss of Thanos’ planet. Any other sky made Loki’s breath catch and made him want to wrap himself in his seidr, to step into the embrace of Yggdrasil, to disappear into the clouds and the open air.

He considered lunging at the man, trying to tackle him to the ground.

But that was stupid. He would never get his magic back then. Stark was his only link to it, his only chance in the entire Nine Realms. 

Perhaps when Stark attacked him, Loki should just stay silent and bear it. Stark might not be so likely to give it to him if Loki hurt him.

Loki growled, low in his throat.

Coughed. Coughed violently -  _ weakling -  _ and there was blood in his mouth again, and he spit it out, but he could still taste it in the back of his throat. If there was any food in his stomach, he probably would have thrown up.

“Sorry,” Stark said. “But we gotta go. Just walk.”

Loki wondered if the man understood how difficult it was to walk with a beaten body, an empty stomach, and a withering  _ seidr _ .

Nevertheless, he managed to avert his glare in time, glaring at the ground instead of the man, and managed to force himself to walk. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before. 

Stark was walking warily at his side, with the weapon still aimed at Loki’s head. He kept glancing away to see where he was going, and back again. Loki’s lips twitched. Didn’t he know that in the moment he was looking away, Loki could have overpowered him in twenty different ways? He could twist his arm behind his back, or kick him in the stomach, or shove the repulsor down his throat, or break his wrist, his arm, his neck…

_ You are lucky indeed, Stark, that what you have is so precious. _

“In here,” Stark said. “Quick.”

They were in the corner of SHIELD’s parking lot. Overhead, a street lamp flickered, moths swarming around it. Loki stepped in a puddle, and grimaced, when he looked down and saw his face. He had already seen himself in the one-way glass, of course, but it was still horrible. He was still hideous.

Stark jerked his thumb towards the car that was parked beneath the street light. He opened the passenger door, and Loki quirked an eyebrow at that. How gentlemanly. How out-of-place. How idiotic.

And he, who had thrown Stark out of a window only three months prior, who had led the Chitauri in a spectacular failure of an invasion on New York, and was now dripping blood for his failure, nodded once, and slid into Stark’s passenger seat, staining it red.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stark said. The tires squealed as he sped out of the parking lot.

()()()

“They’re tailing us,” Stark said. “Fuck my life. Okay, hold on tight, Reindeer Games.”

He jerked on the wheel, and the car turned sharply, squealing in pain. Stark swore as they narrowly missed a collision, and in the mirror, the headlights of the car behind them faded briefly, then turned, and were following them once more. Rain lashed at the windshield. Lights glowed from all sides, leaving bright marks on the insides of Loki’s eyelids. 

He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. His hand tightened around the door handle. 

He opened his eyes when he heard the window opening. Stark stuck his arm out and threw up his middle finger. Loki doubted that the car behind them would notice in the dark, or care if they saw.

“Repulsor,” he said.

Stark glanced at him sharply. “I’m not gonna kill them. You haven’t gotten any less murderous since our last encounter, have you?”

Loki flexed his fingers, clenched them into a fist.  _ I suppose not _ .  _ And you have not obtained the ability to listen to your own words, have you? _

“But I doubt they have the same worries,” Loki said.

Sure enough, a gunshot sounded, and the bullet twanged off the side of the car.

“Bulletproof,” Stark said. Nevertheless, he grabbed the repulsor from where he had set it next to his foot, and stuck it out the window. 

Then his phone rang.

“Fuck. Can you get that?” he asked.

_ This was getting out of hand. _

Loki picked it up, one eyebrow raised.

“Just put it on speaker.”

He did.

_ “Stark! Get your ass back to HQ! I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re…” _

“Furry!” Stark cried, leaning to the right to get his face as close to the phone as possible. “Be careful; Loki’s here, so you don’t wanna be spilling company secrets. And stop following us. We both know that I’m the superior driver.”

_ “What the hell are you doing?” _

“Do you want my honest answer?”

_ “Yes, Stark.” _

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Stark threw his head back and  _ cackled _ , a manic glint in his eyes. Then, behind them, the street burst into an explosion of rubble and bright light. Stark’s eyes narrowed into something darker. “But you are all assholes. And I  _ told _ you to stop following me.”

Loki glanced out the back window. The car was spinning away in a shower of sparks. He could not tell if the people within were alive. He had a hunch that they were not.

Perhaps he had underestimated this mortal.

Pity that he was going to end up dead.

But he couldn’t hold back the smile that was creeping onto his lips.  _ Chaos. _ There was screaming and there was fire and there was death and chaos, chaos, it was wonderful. He wanted to throw his back and  _ laugh, laugh, laugh. _

Maniacal laughter really was quite cathartic, after all.

Or did they think he was just  _ wasting _ his breath?

(Although, he would call it more of a dark chuckle. More dignified.)

“You know,” he said, as Stark swerved into what he assumed was a kind of garage, within Stark Tower, because it looked vaguely familiar and there were other cars there. “Exploding your allies to save your enemy isn’t normally considered proper etiquette among heroes.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have joked. But Thanos always hurt him whenever he joked, and he wondered if Stark would do the same.

“Damn them to hell,” was how Stark replied.

Interesting.

Loki took several deep breaths to prepare himself to ask. “Why did you do this?” he asked, although the process of asking made his heart pound unnaturally, and he had to clench his fist again to calm it. “Why am I here?”  _ Is this an illusion? Are you real, or am I currently bleeding to death in the corner of my cell?  _ He doubted it, but it would have been nice to get some confirmation (Although the confirmation could be a lie). However, he didn’t ask.

Thanos didn’t like it when he asked questions. It was always, always worse whenever he asked questions.

Would it be the same here?

Stark snorted. “Why does everyone assume that I’ve got no human decency left?” he asked, as he opened the door and got out. “You know why I did this.”

Even more interesting.

Although that certainly wasn’t a satisfactory answer.

“Come on,” Stark said. “We can’t stay here. They’re probably already outside. Pervs.”

He walked backwards for a few steps, with the repulsor aimed at Loki’s head, then must have realized how stupid he looked, because he began to walk at Loki’s side again. It was a very uncomfortable walk, nonetheless. Loki did not enjoy having weapons aimed at his face. Especially not when they could actually kill him.

Stark had led them to an elevator. They got in, and it began to climb steadily, slowly, with a screen on the wall marking off each floor. Fifty of them. 

_ Where are you taking me? _

But he would find out in a moment. 

Loki met the eyes of his reflection, standing in the brassy surface of the elevator doors. “I’m bleeding quite a bit,” he said, surveying his body with distaste. He was favoring his left leg. He corrected that immediately.

Stark’s eyes moved to Loki’s reflection, as well. “Yup,” he said.

Loki’s hand moved to cover his chest, even though he was wearing a shirt. But then he grimaced, and let his hand fall to his side again. 

“It’s not very comfortable,” he said.

“No, I can imagine it wouldn’t be,” Stark said. “Well, the plane ride shouldn’t be long.”

_ A plane? Where are we going? _

Most likely to a more secluded place, where Stark could do as he wished to Loki without outside interference. 

Loki clenched his fists.

The elevator stopped. Rather jerkily, but Loki didn’t mention it.

“Not the roof,” Stark said, when they were confronted by a hallway. “Just need to grab my Paranoia Purse. Come on.”

Loki’s first, inane urge was to sigh dramatically, but he quickly stifled it. Paranoia Purse?

Stark walked backwards, opening the door opposite them awkwardly, fumbling around a bit with the lock. He opened it, and they stepped into what could only be Stark’s bedroom, because there were posters on the walls and clothes on the floor and a bed in the corner, with the sheets thrown around like someone had been  _ trying _ to make it disorganized.

It reminded Loki a bit of his own room.

“Paranoia Purse, Jarvis,” Stark said. Something beeped, and folded out of the wall. He picked it up. It was a briefcase.

There was a note taped to the pillow of the bed. Stark glanced at it, then grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket. He glanced around the room, briefly, then back to Loki. He nodded, and they walked back into the elevator.

When they next stepped out, they were on the roof of Stark Tower.

There was a sound like a breeze, blowing through the trees, as shadows came out of the dark, towards him, surrounding him. Making him suffocate. 

Loki took a step back but they just kept coming, until he couldn’t breathe, and they grabbed him, touched him, dragged him down until he drowned in their murky depths, head beneath the water - can’t breathe, can’t breathe - hands everywhere, knives and daggers cutting, slicing, he was being ripped apart, he…

He couldn’t breathe, and…

Fire. Fire, the roof was on fire.

A hand clamped down on his arm, but he knew not to try to jerk away. He knew that it was easier if he just stayed still. 

The hand began to pull on his arm, dragging him. He followed. 

_ “Obedient, little Jotun dog. Didn’t take long to break you, did it? You get easier every day.” _

They went up a staircase, and then there was something at his back. He didn’t know… but then there was a noise, a roar.

“Ha! Didn’t see this coming, didja, you bastards!” he heard a voice - familiar - shout. Instinctively, he drew away from it, drew into the corner. But it was too small, this place was too small, and there was nowhere to go to get away.

Everything lurched. Up, down, he felt sick, couldn’t see. Breathe, breathe,  _ no, _ they were grabbing him, hands, red-hot, hot, hot, burning, hands, everywhere, everywhere.

_ Remember. _

_ Just be still. You know that it is easier if you just stay still. _

“Loki?”

Loki opened his eyes. Sky. Buildings. Lights. They were flying. 

He should feel something. All he felt was sick.

Hide it. Hide it. Hide it.

“You okay?”

There are no hands. No one. No one is there. You are  _ fine _ . Fine. You are fine. Remember? Idiot, why can’t you ever remember anything?

“I’m fine,” he practically spat. In fact, a perfectly round drop of blood landed in front of him. He scowled at it.

“There were some SHIELD agents. I blew them up,” Stark said. “In case you didn’t notice. Who am I kidding, of course you noticed. And… now,” he pressed a button on the ceiling, and everything lit up. “We,” he grabbed something on the wall - seat belt - and fastened it. “Are in.” He took a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. “Business.”

_ Norns. Save me from this idiocy. _

“You,” Loki said. “Just broke me out of my cell, blew up your own allies to get me into this plane, and are now flying me somewhere else, just so I can be safe. And are now grinning about it like an idiot.”

“Yup.”

Loki allowed a grin to spread over his face, a grin to match Stark’s. (He hadn’t grinned in such a long time.) “I think I  _ like _ you.” (He didn’t, of course, and he shouldn’t. But perhaps Stark would be more likely to give his magic back if he thought he did.)

“Most people do,” Stark said.

The plane soared through the clouds, cutting a line straight to freedom. 

Or to hell.

()()()

“Home sweet… secret shack in Canada. Where are we, Jarvis?” Stark asked, after he had cackled about their escape, showered his plane with praises, and stroked her wings almost sensually. “I honestly have no clue,” he turned to Loki, shrugging apologetically. “I used autopilot.”

They had landed on a sandbar. In the middle of the sea. There was nothing but water in all directions, and nothing but a small shack in the center of the sandbar, run-down, looking as if it was going to topple over. Loki lifted his foot and shook it with distaste, making sand rain down. He hated sand.

**This is your Minnesota shack, sir.** A disembodied voice said, from somewhere above them, within the plane.

“Oh. So I was way off. And why Minnesota? I hate Minnesota.”

The voice didn’t deign that question worth answering.

“If I wasn’t currently so indebted to you for breaking me out of that hellhole,” Loki remarked dryly. “I would say that this isn’t much of an improvement.”

Stark snorted again. "You could at least say thanks."

"I did."

He met Stark's eyes pointedly. And, despite the fact that he would rather die than have Stark remember Loki's pitiful state earlier - when he had been cowering in the corner of his cell - he knew that it was to his advantage when a tell-tale flash of pity filled Stark's eyes.

It was still hard to hide his grimace, though.

Pity. He didn't want pity. He was a prince.

_ "Jotun dog. Begging at my feet. Pathetic!" _

Hands. Hands, hands coming out of the dark. Hands everywhere, hands inside him, filling him with their sickly warmth, their flesh and their meat and their bones.

Loki's jaw tightened.

"Sure you're okay?" Stark asked.

"So, the shack is here," he said. He completely ignored Stark's question and turned away, banishing all emotion from his face. He would have phrased it as a question - "Are we really staying in this pathetic little shack?" - but didn't.

"Yes," Stark said, glancing around awkwardly. "I think so. It’s not actually  _ that _ shack. It’s a safe house. And it might be underground. I don't really remember. Um..." he stepped forward, glancing back often to check on Loki, the repulsor never wavering in his hand. "Hello! I'm Tony fucking Stark."

Ahead of him, the sand began to fall. It caved inwards, and kept sinking, until it revealed a dark staircase, spiraling down, right in the middle of the sandbar.

"Password," Stark said, and winked. He followed it with, "Shit." He only had to take a few steps ahead to be standing at the edge of the pit. "Should have designed that better. I so could have fallen in."

And wouldn't that have been a shame, Loki thought, before remembering that yes, it would have been a shame, because Stark was currently the only person in the whole nine realms who knew where his magic was hidden.

Which meant that Loki couldn't let him die.

For a brief moment, Loki considered overpowering Stark - which would be easy - and forcing the answer out of him.

But he rejected that option.

Quickly.

It was the right option. The safest option. What else did he have? Somehow get Stark to trust him enough to give him back his seidr? Ha. As if that wouldn't go horribly wrong.

But the thought of torturing someone, even his enemy (an enemy other than Thanos, that is) who hadn’t actually hurt him,  _ yet _ , still made something twist uncomfortably in Loki's gut. And he knew that he could never bring himself to do it.

Weak.

But it was true. No way around it. He would just have to get Stark to give him his magic back. Willingly. 

"Mmm. You go first," Stark said, gesturing towards the staircase.

Loki bowed his head.  _ How gallant of you to offer.  _ He strode forward, and glanced over the edge.

An abyss.

A chasm, in the sky.

He inhaled sharply, flexed his fingers, looked away. But he ripped himself out of the panic that was rising up in his chest, and brutally forced himself to walk forward, without limping, head held high, and step down into that void.

Behind him, there was a whrr, and a dim, flickering light shone onto the steps from the repulsor in Stark's hand, hardly illuminating them at all. Loki glanced back at him. Stark's face was in shadow, but he heard him stumble over his words as he said, "I just meant, um, that it would be easier because I wouldn't have to walk backwards, but if you want me to walk ahead of you then we can switch..." he trailed off, awkwardly.

Loki looked away quickly, breathing sharply until he was certain that his face was blank again. How had Stark known? Surely it couldn't have been that obvious.

"No," he said. "I know how to descend a staircase, Stark."

Stark's voice was no less rushed when he next spoke. Obviously, he wasn't good at disguising his emotions. "But there should be an actual light here. I can't find it. Or it got blown up. Both occur very often to my possessions." He paused. "And you’re limping."

How had Stark noticed that? Loki had been careful to hide his limp. Was Stark trying to gather a list of all his weaknesses?

Probably.

"I am fine," Loki said.

"No, you aren't. Stop. Fuck, Loki, stop walking!"

Loki stopped. Glared at the staircase, smothered his glare, and turned around to face Stark. "Stark," he said, trying to sound reasonable. "There is nothing you can do for me while we are in the middle of this staircase. If you have medical equipment, it is either below us or above us. But that doesn't matter, because I do not need your..." he bit back the word 'pathetic.' "Midgardian medicine. I will be fine. So there is no need to stop. In fact, it is only wasting time."

“But you’re injured.”

Loki knew that he shouldn’t have whirled around, lost his temper, and snapped, “And why should you care? And why am I even here? Why did you free me, Stark? What do you  _ want _ ?” but he hadn’t lost his temper in such a long time…

That the act of doing so made him remember the pain that always followed, made him swallow and tense and take a step back. He almost fell, forgetting that he was on the stairs, but he caught himself on the wall, streaking it with blood. He shouldn’t have asked so many questions.

Stark, who was standing above him, let out an irritated breath, and sat down, elbows resting on his knees. “Fine. You wanna do this now? Fine. We’ll stop.”

Loki stood there, trying not to glare at him, and failing, while dripping blood on his spiral staircase/cave entrance.

“You wanna do this now?” Stark repeated, throwing up his hands. He  _ was _ glaring, but not at Loki, at the ceiling. “ _ Fine. _ Look. I know that something shitty happened to you. I have some guesses as to what it was. And I wasn’t about to let SHIELD just…” he had to visibly restrain himself from yelling, Loki could tell by the way his shoulders shook as he inhaled, the way his fingers twitched, the way he breathed out slowly, collecting his thoughts. Then he met Loki’s eyes. “Execute you. They were gonna kill you.”

“I know,” Loki said.

Stark’s eyes flashed. “And you were just sitting there? Not trying to fight back? That’s not like you.”

_ You don’t know me. _

Loki laughed, softly. “I couldn’t fight back.”

Stark bounced his knee up and down. He ripped his sunglasses off and shoved them in his pocket, as if he had just realized that he was still wearing them. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his non-repulsor hand. “What was that green thing?”

“As if I’d tell you.”  _ Stark doesn’t know? How very  _ interesting.

“So it’s something dangerous, then.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. What do you want from me? I know you wouldn’t save me from execution just because you feel sorry for me.” He said the word  _ sorry _ like it was curse. “I’m not an idiot.”

He had to take a moment to steady his breathing. He wasn’t sure why.

Stark moved the repulsor hand away. He examined it, and it cast its light onto his face, forming strange shadows under his eyes and hairline. “I told you. Human decency. I wasn’t about to let you die without at least finding out the truth. And… I could tell. And no one else would have believed me. But I could tell.”

“Tell what.”

Stark turned his hand, drowning his face in shadows again, making that dim light shine onto Loki, instead. It was still bright enough that Loki could see Stark’s raised eyebrow. 

“ _ Tell what,” _ Loki hissed, taking a step up, so that he could look down on Stark. 

Stark managed to look unimpressed for a few moments, then he looked away. “Loki,” he said. There was something lying beneath his voice, something indecipherable. (Or, perhaps Loki just didn’t want to admit what it was.) “I can tell that someone hurt you,” he said. 

Loki inhaled sharply, and it was so hard to force himself not to snarl, not to wrap his hands around Stark’s throat, press him up against the wall, and squeeze.

He would save that for Thanos.

Instead, he managed to keep his face blank - he was getting good at that - and keep himself from denying it, although it hurt his pride. What did it matter if his pride got hurt? That was like beating a corpse. If his pride was capable of feeling pain, then it would surely have been murdered at the hands of Thanos.

Admitting it to his enemy was nothing. Getting his magic back was everything.

So he didn’t deny it. If Stark felt pity for him, that could only work to his advantage.

Instead, he allowed the silence that fell between them to speak for itself.

Stark looked like he was about to say something idiotic, like  _ I’m sorry, _ so Loki interrupted him, turning and beginning to limp down the stairs. “I would prefer not to bleed all over your staircase any longer,” he said.

“Yeah, of course,” Stark replied, his voice soft. The light bobbed as he stood and started to follow Loki down. Loki wondered if the repulsor was still aimed at his head.

He wondered if his magic was nearby.

He wondered if Stark was lying, and he didn’t even have it.

He wondered if any of this was real.

Too many questions. Just focus on the plan. If something changes, make a new one, like you always do. As soon as you can, come up with other plans to fall back on, so you don’t have to improvise. 

Easy.

He took another step, and realized that there was not another stair. He stumbled awkwardly, grabbing the wall to steady himself. Pain flared in his ankle, and for a moment he was unable to breathe.

Behind him, Stark laughed. “Did you just miss the stair?”

Loki caught his breath quickly, turned, and scowled at him. “Bad idea, Stark. I can think of fifty ways to kill you with just my bare hands.” He hoped Stark wouldn’t hear the strain in his voice. He hoped Stark wasn’t a Chitauri.

He realized too late that Midgard’s sense of humor might be different than Asgard’s - or, indeed, his, which happened to be more murderous than most - but Stark grinned, and laughed harder. “Of course you can,” he said. “Of-fucking-course you can. Why do I associate with these kinds of people?”

_ Because you’re an idiot. _

“That is an issue you will have to work out for yourself,” Loki said. “Now. I’m glad we had this little talk, but I would really like to stop bleeding as soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe well wasn't that FUN. Hey, I TOLD you there would be a lot of pain. And you probably enjoyed it, didn't ya?  
> I mean, I'm in no position to judge, when I wrote the damn thing. But still. Y'all are crazy.  
> If you want to, go ahead and leave a comment! Where did this chapter rate on your pain meter? A one can be a fluffy oneshot about Loki and a poodle, and a ten can be Loki getting raped by an illusion of Thor that was created by Thanos oh WAIT shit I already did that (lol that was a dumb joke but I thought it was funny so here you go.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I was wrong actually I think this chapter might have more pain than the last two. *rereads chapter* oh fuck. Yeah, this shit is messed up. So be warned - you can eat your chicken nuggets with this one, probably, but like… if you do that then it probably means you’re evil.  
> I’m sorry I PROMISE there is some comfort soon lol. *checks next few chapters* um well maybe not SOON but like eventually. Sometime. Hopefully. I think.  
> If you don’t believe me, check the tags. There’s like three in there with the word ‘comfort’ in them. So that’s three nice tags out of like sixty horrifying ones that would get me sent to a psychiatrist if anyone ever found out I was writing this, which is a pretty good number, all things considered.  
> Oh and THANKS for all your lovely comments - I would hug you but last time I said I was gonna do that I got a death threat so maybe a fist bump instead (it was a friendly death threat. I promise.)  
> And can I just say how much I fucking love writing this story? Like I’m literally about twenty chapters ahead of this and I haven’t gotten writer’s block once and haven’t lost motivation because there’s so much SHIT happening. And I’m sure you’re all wondering if any frostiron has happened by then… well, I would tell you but I love to torment you.  
> (By the way, it’s my birthday, hehe. Just thought I’d mention it. But I won’t tell you how old I am - cause I’m mysterious.)  
> Anyway - enjoy your (not) daily dose of angst!

It took a lot of effort to pretend that he hadn’t noticed.

Hadn’t noticed Loki’s reaction when the SHIELD agents came running at them on the roof. The way he drew away from Tony like he was scared Tony was going to hit him when they were in the cockpit of the plane. How out-of-control his breathing had gotten, several times, on the staircase.

The way he flinched and drew away from Tony, towards the edge of the uncomfortable bed in the dimly lit medical room they were in, arms wrapping instinctively around his chest, when Tony suggested that he take off his shirt. Blood had already stained the sheets.

“Fine, you can do it when you’re ready,” Tony said. “I get it. You’re probably just tired, and need a second to catch your breath.”

But Loki didn’t calm down. Probably couldn’t. He was breathing like a cornered mouse.

Tony pretended not to notice. 

And Tony knew that this was probably some kind of trauma resurfacing (he didn’t even want to consider what kind of repressed memories could be coming up), so when Loki started to stammer, trying to find excuses - “...but I wouldn’t want you to have to see; that is, you don’t have to be here when…” - he held up his hand, interrupting him.

“Actually, I just remembered that I should probably be securing this place. Gotta be sure that SHIELD doesn’t find us. Don’t worry; the AIs are very capable, and they can fix you up better than I ever could. Just ask Jarvis if you’re confused about something. ‘Kay?”

Loki nodded. He didn’t look relieved, but Tony suspected that was because he was focusing on keeping his face blank. Just because he didn’t  _ look _ relieved didn’t mean that he wasn’t.

Tony gave him a tight smile.

He opened his phone and texted Jarvis.

“Monitor him. If he leaves the room, or picks up a weapon, or starts doing an evil villain monologue or something, tell me to get in there ASAP.”

He switched off his phone, and met Loki’s eyes again. There wasn’t anything to go on there, no hints as to what he was thinking - which could be a hint in itself, but was still unsettling.

“And Loki?” he added, even though Loki was already looking at him. “You’re safe here. Got that? Safe. No one gets in unless I let them. And I won’t hurt you, and I’m not going to let anyone else in, so no one else can hurt you, either.”

The words had been supposed to be comforting. 

Despite that, Loki sucked in a huge breath, standing from the bed and stepping jerkily backwards until his back hit the wall. And, like he had earlier in the cell, he seemed to crumple, to become something scared and small, something that he should never be.

He slid down to the floor, and drew his knees up to his chest. He was shaking.

“Okay,” Tony said, to himself. “Okay. Not good. Okay.” 

_ What the hell did those monsters do to him? _

He crouched down, but didn’t come any closer, holding his hands up. “I won’t hurt you. I really won’t.”

That only seemed to make him worse.

Because now he started to speak.

“ _ Kurteisisorð _ . Please. Please, I can’t, I can’t.”

Begging.

Loki shouldn’t beg.

Tony shuffled backwards, lowered his voice. “I really won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m just trying to help you.” He unstrapped the repulsor from his hand and set it on the ground.

“ _ Lygari _ ,” Loki said. His voice was full of tears, even though none were falling. “ _ Lygari _ . I knew you were. I knew you were.”

Lygari. Hadn’t Fury said something about that word?

Tony muttered a curse under his breath. The  _ one time _ that he really should have listened to something Fury said, he didn’t. 

“Lygari?” Tony repeated, although the word sounded wrong on his tongue, with his American accent. “What does that mean?” 

Loki seemed to get worse when Tony asked the question. He licked his lips, breathing quickly, but when he spoke it was like he was trying to force out an answer. “It means ‘powerful’,” he said, the words coming out much too quickly, tripping over each other. Tony had to take a moment to replay the sentence in his mind before he understood what Loki had said.

“Okay,” he said. 

Weird.

“Why are you afraid of me?” he asked. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Loki breathing sped up again, his eyes filling with fear, making Tony wince. Tony couldn’t tell if he was secretly angry, or if he was just scared, or if he even knew that Tony was there. He couldn’t tell, and he had no idea what to do, but maybe he would if he knew why Loki was scared of him.

But a few moments passed, and Loki only seemed to worsen, because he drew his knees closer to his chest, and once again seemed to be fighting for an answer, any answer. “Because it’s like last time, and I know what you’ll do, _lygari,_ _vegna þess að þú ert öflugur_ …” he sucked in a frantic breath. “And I… I don’t… can’t… I don’t know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

His hands clawed at the walls as he tried to get away, despite there being nowhere to go. His eyes were big and wide and scared and Tony just wanted him to go back to how he had been earlier. He hated seeing him like this.

He didn’t know why but he did. He hated it so much.

“No need to be sorry,” Tony said. “ _ I’m _ sorry. Obviously I did something wrong. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

Loki didn’t react to his words. Didn’t stop panicking.

“Jarv?” Tony asked, desperately. “What should I do?”

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glad that Jarvis had decided to text back instead of speaking out loud, because it might have scared Loki more.

“You should leave the room, sir,” it read. “I can monitor him for you. I think that Mr. Odinson is having a negative reaction to your presence.”

But why? He had been just fine earlier. Well, as fine as he could be. He had even made jokes, and now he was just… gone.

But Tony knew that Jarvis was right. “I’m gonna leave now,” he said. “Okay?”

No reaction.

He stood, and he suspected that Loki’s eyes never left him as he turned and walked out the door.

He closed it behind him, and closed his eyes, letting out a relieved breath, followed by a series of fast, very unrelieved breaths. Holy fuck.

()()()

**Sir. It has been several minutes and he has calmed down slightly. However, if you reenter the room, he is likely to return to his previous state. It may be practical to produce and unconscious state in Mr. Odinson so he can receive proper medical attention.**

Tony was sitting on the couch, biting his nails, but when Jarvis spoke he glanced up sharply and stopped. “Drug him?”

**It may be advisable, sir.**

“No,” Tony said. “I can’t do that. He won’t believe me if I tell him that I’m only gonna put him to sleep so that I can help him, and if he won’t give me permission, then I won’t do it.”

**I doubt he would give you permission to remove his clothes and operate on him while awake either, sir. But you cannot let him remain untreated.**

Tony covered his face with his hands. Shit.

“I know, Jarvis. I…” he trailed off, thinking of the green thing, and of something else that Fury had said, but which he had ignored at the time.

_ “And this green thing had… tendrils, like vines. Going into him. But when we got there, they all retreated. Made him bleed more, and breathe weird, when they did that.” _

And when Tony had returned, mere hours after taking the green thing away, Loki had a broken ankle, and was bleeding even worse, all over the floor. Had it been healing him? Some kind of magic device?

And, even weirder, why wasn’t his own magic healing him? Wasn’t it supposed to do that? Why was Loki still injured at all?

But wondering wouldn’t help. It wasn’t like Tony could give Loki the green thing back. He had no idea what it was.

So that wasn’t an option. And all the other options left to him were going to terrify Loki.

“What do you recommend, Jarv?” he asked. He really didn’t want to have to decide.

**I would recommend giving Mr. Odinson an injection to induce anesthesia. Then, I can assist you in tending to his wounds.**

“I’m gonna feel like such a dick,” Tony muttered.

Jarvis didn’t reply to that.

He slapped his hands down on his knees, sucked in a breath, and jumped up from the couch. “Fine. Fine. You win.” He clasped his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling, sucking in another breath through his gritted teeth. “This is gonna suck.”

**It is for the best, sir.**

“I know. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Tony lowered his hands and clapped, once, loudly. “Let’s do this thing.”

()()() 

Loki was in the corner when he returned. He had taken the pillow off of the bed and was holding it to his chest. 

Tony had never seen anything quite like the terror in his eyes, or the sad sight of him clutching that pillow like it was a lifeline. He had to take a second to close his eyes, count to ten, collect himself. This wasn’t gonna be pretty. But there was no way around it.

“Hey,” he said, lowering into a crouch. Jarvis had provided him with the drug, and now he was hiding the needle behind his back. He held up his other hand, palm-out. “It’s just me. You remember me, of course. You threw me out a window.” He forced himself to laugh at that. If you had a twisted sense of humor, it really was funny how their roles had been reversed. 

Not reversed, actually. More like turned inside out. And hit with a hammer several times.

Loki tightened his grip on the pillow. It was streaked with blood, and so were his hands, and the wall he was huddling against, and… Tony swallowed down a lump in his throat. He could cry later.

“I’m gonna come closer,” he said. Loki inhaled sharply, but didn’t try to discourage him. Tony wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Regardless, he started to crouch-walk towards Loki, which was actually really hard to do, and he kept almost falling and having to catch himself against the floor.

But when he finally reached Loki, it still felt too soon.

He paused, his hand hovering over Loki’s arm. 

“Please don’t touch me,” Loki whispered. “ _ Ekki snerta mig.  _ Please.”

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He reached out and grabbed Loki’s arm.

And Loki went limp. 

Tony stared at him. He hated this. He hated it. He wanted to  _ murder _ whoever had done this to him. 

Loki had covered his face with his hands, so he didn’t see as Tony---

Took a deep breath and sank the needle into Loki’s arm, pressing down, watching as the liquid disappeared. 

Loki whimpered.

And Tony hated it. Because he knew that the needle had to hurt, and Loki had probably already learned to associate touch with pain, and Tony was just making it worse…

He pulled the needle out, and crouched beside Loki until his eyelids fell shut. The pillow fell to the ground and he crumpled into Tony’s arms. Tony let out a long breath, shaky breath, and wiped away his own tears with the back of his hand. He hadn’t realized that he was crying.

()()()

One of his Minnesota Shack robots - Juggernaut (Jug for short) - helped him to set Loki down on the bed. Then it elevated his leg and started to examine his ankle - which must have been the cause of his limp. Medical jargon appeared on the computer screen at Loki’s bedside, but Tony ignored it. He had no idea what any of that shit meant.

“Hey, Jug,” he said. “What’s wrong with his ankle?”

The robot, which was basically a metal arm with several very long, very precise fingers, turned to him and waved its fingers around like it was an octopus. Tony hadn’t programmed it with a voice, so Jarvis translated.  **His ankle is sprained, sir.**

“And he was walking?”

**Evidently.**

Tony wiped away sweat that had gathered on his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Okay. Jug? Can you put ice on it? Or… whatever you do?”

**Affirmative, sir.**

“Thanks,” Tony said. He eyed the rest of Loki’s body with growing dread. Whatever was hidden under his clothes, it would be a testament to what they (whoever “they” were) had done to him. To what had turned him, against his will, into that begging, whimpering, crying mess that had been huddling in the corner.

Tony grabbed a pair of scissors. He held them above Loki’s neckline, and he swallowed. Then he started to cut away his shirt.

He stopped when he saw it.

Stopped and set the scissors down and covered his face with his hands, dangerously close to breaking down and crying. 

Suddenly the smell of Loki’s blood was too much. He stepped away, feeling worthless, and ran to the opposite wall, stomach churning. He caught himself on the sink and turned it on, splashing water at his face.

No. No. Not this, too. Anything but this.

But there it was. Burned into Loki’s chest.

WHORE

Tony put his hand over his mouth, hardly able to breathe. He shut his eyes, but that image just kept coming back. The ruined, scarred skin. And he had stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was, before vomit rushed into his throat, before his head started to spin.

How could this be real?

And how could Loki have been having such a casual conversation earlier? Joking with him, as if everything was fine? As if Tony was still offering him that drink?

**Sir? Are you all right? You seem to be experiencing an anxiety attack.**

“No shit, Jarvis,” Tony muttered, through his fingers. He needed some whisky, just some whisky, to make this all feel numb, but he had to help Loki. He had to. And he couldn’t do that while drunk.

Dread. Dread settled in his chest again when he looked at the figure lying on the bed. His head had fallen to the side. No sign on his face, not even a sign of the  _ pain _ he had gone through… And he had been joking earlier. Joking. Laughing.

Surreal. That was what it was.

But if Loki had been able to pretend that nothing was wrong, to focus on what was happening and hide all his panic away - if even for a short while, because that short while must have taken a monumental effort - Tony would do the same.

He would process it later. Not now. Now, he had to get his ass over there and do something.

Tony walked back to the bed, and cut the shirt the rest of the way. It was hard to pull it away from Loki’s body, because it was so bloody. Dried blood, lying beneath not quite dried blood. Tony tossed it in the trash. He cut away Loki’s pants, too. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

The word on his chest was horrifying. So was all the blood. But once he had grabbed a cloth - several, actually - and washed all the blood away, as best he could, he was able to see the scars.

“Fuck,” he said. “Um. Jug?”

Jug paused in the middle of applying Loki’s cast. It started to run its fingers gently over Loki’s body, probing and prodding at all his injuries with a feather-light touch. It turned him halfway onto his side, and examined his back. Tony was careful not to look. He knew that Loki’s back had been bleeding badly, and he didn’t really want to know.

**Sir. While none of Mr. Odinson’s injuries are likely to put him in any peril, it would be advisable to bandage them in order to prevent any further blood loss. The area seeing the most severe loss of blood is Mr. Odinson’s back.**

“Yeah,” Tony said.

**I will turn Mr. Odinson onto his side so that you can have better access.**

Jug did. And Tony wrapped his arms around his chest, wishing he could be anywhere else. Wishing that this wasn’t real.

“What is it?” he asked, weakly.

**The marks you are seeing on Mr. Odinson’s back were likely caused by a whip, sir.**

“Fuck,” Tony said.

Yeah, yeah he could have guessed. Those long, white scars, criss-crossing across Loki’s pale skin, old and new, some still bleeding, but all ugly. 

And Loki had been laughing, had been smiling, had been making jokes.

“Just tell me what to do,” Tony said.

Jarvis did.

()()()

Loki’s ankle was sprained. The word “WHORE” was burned into his chest. He had been beaten with a whip. It was clear that he had been raped. And his stomach, his arms, his legs, even his hands, were cut and bruised. There were countless old scars, hidden beneath the new.

But at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

Tony laughed brokenly at that thought. Then it turned into a sob. Then he shut his mouth. And finally, because he had done all he could and it was honestly more productive to leave Jug to do the rest, he lifted a bottle of whisky to his lips and took a long drink. It burned on the way down. Thank god.

He hadn’t left the room, because he would have felt too guilty, lounging on the couch while Loki was alone in the hospital room, looking like that. But he was sitting against the wall, with his Minnesota Shack laptop on his lap, hacking into anything and everything he could find in order to ensure that SHIELD wouldn’t find them.

The security system in this place was top-notch. It was a complete secret, known to no one but him. Not even Happy or Pepper. But he wasn’t about to sit there doing nothing, and besides, if SHIELD found Loki again, he would never forgive himself. 

He set the bottle back down with a  _ clink _ , and went back to typing. 

An hour passed.

Jug announced that he was finished. Tony got up and covered Loki with a blanket, then he sat back down.

Another hour. Damn, whatever that drug was, it had been strong.

Then Loki’s breathing changed.

Tony closed his laptop and stood up, already halfway to the bed when Loki’s eyes opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hehehehe cliff hanger)  
> Okay so the beautifully fucked up idea of having the word “whore” literally burned into Loki’s skin was inspired by the story Broken is the Puppet, Unbreakable is the Prince by gothraven89. Which I think is only posted on FF.Net  
> Quick question: I might just be an idiot but can someone explain Tony’s nickname for Thor (Point Break)? I don’t know what it meanssss and it’s been bothering me for a VERY long time lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see myself as a random salesman on a street corner ringing a bell and yelling “COME AND GET UR ANGST! It’s hot an’ spicy an’ real fucked up so COME AND GET” okay sorry. (But like can you imagine if that was real because I’m laughing right now that’s kind of hilarious and would definitely be my career like okay I’m rambling lol)  
> mmm I don't think this one is very angsty, actually. Just a general angsty feel but nothing stands out to me. There's even some stuff that could be considered... drumroll please... fluff! :D  
> Thanks to DocWordsmith for beta readinggg ily  
> And thanks to y'all for your comments (I don't know why I keep using the word "y'all" lol) I love you soo much and you all are gonna get a nonconsensual fist bump *fist bumps*. There you go. Like, I crave validation and on the main reasons I'm able to write this so fast is because all of your compliments keep me motivated :)  
> And I listened to Too Late to Say Goodbye by Cage the Elephant a lot while I was writing this. Idk why but it's a good song so *shrugs*  
> Yup I think that's all. Happy reading!

Don't move. Don't speak. Don't scream. Don't panic.

Calm down.

Breathe. Breathe slowly.

Take note of your surroundings. Where are you? Is anyone else nearby? Do they look like they're going to hurt you? If they don't look like they're going to hurt you, could they be trying to trick you?

He was in a bed. In a white room. Staring at the ceiling. He looked to the left. Tony Stark was there, at his bedside, looking down at him.

Why was he there? Loki didn’t know.

Was he real? Loki didn't know.

Was he going to hurt him? Maybe. Tense up. Brace yourself. But look.  _ Look.  _ Where can you go? How can you get away?

Loki glanced at the doorway. He flexed his fingers. He breathed slowly. He could make it to the door, perhaps, but not quick enough. Stark would catch him. And if Stark was a Chitauri, which he was, then that was not an option.

Although, if Stark was a Chitauri, then why didn't Loki hurt? Why wasn't he in his cell?

Why was he in a bed at all? He couldn't remember...

Think. Where was the last place you remember being? Retrace your steps. You know how. You always forget things. Places. People. Memories. Regain them. Remember them. Concentrate, idiot.

He was in a cell. Then he wasn't. Stark saved him. Not Stark; the Chitauri, although Loki was trying to pretend that it was real.

He was in a plane. Then he was on a staircase. Then he was here. Then Thor told him that he wouldn’t hurt him -  _ lygari -  _ and the Chitauri started grabbing him. Touching him. Came out of the dark, fingers slicing at his skin. Fingers, everywhere, everywhere...

No.

Wrong.

Stupid. You're so stupid. You're always wrong.

Thor wasn’t there, and there were no Chitauri. They weren't there. You panicked. Idiot. You always do this. Because you're too stupid to follow simple orders. Pathetic. Weak. Pet, creature, plaything, object, idiot. It was just Stark. You know it's true. It was only Stark. 

Loki let out a deep breath.

And that meant that he had cowered, in front of Stark. Begged, in front of Stark. Cried, in front of Stark. Loki closed his eyes, shame eating him up from the inside out. A parasite, chewing on his organs, on his bones, slowly eating him alive. Laughing about it. Because even if, even though he knew Stark couldn’t be real, he still didn’t want the Chitauri seeing him so pathetic. Even when he was out of his cell, he was still so humiliatingly  _ pathetic. _

And where had his plans gone? Crumbled into dust. Into dirt. Because when someone touched him, he panicked. He forgot. And how could he follow a plan when he kept forgetting everything?

"You okay?" Stark asked. Voice soft. Probably scared that if he raised his voice, Loki would start to panic again. He was probably right. 

_ Are you okay. _ What a ridiculous question.

Of course he wasn't.

But of course he would pretend to be.

“You…” Loki tried. He coughed.

“I drugged you. Yeah. I kind of had to, because you needed medical attention and you were…” he trailed off, but Loki could fill in the blanks.  _ Panicking. Because you’re so pathetic, and you don’t do anything but panic. _

Loki sat up.

And realized that all he was wearing was a blanket. Quickly, he grabbed it, but it didn’t matter. Stark had seen. He knew. He knew what Loki was.

_ Whore. _

Shame burned his eyes.

Loki closed them, trying to breathe.

"I'm sorry," Stark said, softly, taking a careful step forward with both of his hands up. "Do you want me to leave? I don't know. Or if you need something else, just tell me. I can’t know what you want unless you tell me."

Well, he was offering. But Loki couldn't bring himself to ask. To demand something. Nothing ever worked out when he asked for things. They just laughed at him.

But he was pretending that this was real. Remember? You’re supposed to pretend that this is Stark and he is really offering.

Plan. Make a plan. Come on, it's easy, and it'll feel so much better once you have an order to follow.

What was your old plan?  _ Get your magic.  _ Put that one to the side for now. What do you need? You need to calm down so you can make a real plan. Well, you won't calm down until you have clothes on.

So ask.

Loki opened his eyes. Stark was standing over him, but he wasn't touching, which was good. He just looked concerned, which was annoying. Loki could feel the panic ebbing, feel himself coming back. It was a good feeling, except for the deep shame that accompanied it. Falling apart in front of his enemy. Humiliating.

But he didn't have any pride left, anyway.

So he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, covering his body as thoroughly as he possibly could, and tried to ask in the most nonchalant way possible: "Can I have some clothes? Preferably something not as garish as yours."

Stark looked surprised. Probably by Loki's ability to push down his panic and pretend that he was fine, was just joking, that he actually found the jokes funny and his sense of humor hadn't been brutally broken by Thanos, along with the rest of him.

"Of course," Stark said.

That was all he said.

Loki twisted the blanket in his fists. It rubbed strangely against his chest, almost as if there was something between the blanket and his skin. He looked down. The ugly, hideous,  _ true _ word burned into his skin was covered by a monstrous bandaid, about the size of his hand.

Stark’s eyes had dropped down, as well, to Loki’s chest. Loki glanced at him sharply. Why did he look so strangely sad?

And why hadn’t he taken the chance, when Loki was drugged, to beat him or… to use him? Why did nothing hurt? That set Loki more on edge. He would know where he stood if something hurt. He would know what to expect.

"Oh!" Stark cried, taking a step back. "Yeah. Sorry. Clothes. Oh, and I’ll have to get you some food." He turned to leave, then stopped and spun on his heel to face Loki again. "What kind of clothes?" he asked, smiling, showing the smallest hint of white teeth. "Green, probably. And what kind of food do you want?"

Loki was caught off guard by the barrage of questions. But they were easy, and he could answer them quickly enough to avoid the blow to the head or the shove on his shoulders that always came when he took too long to answer. "Green is fine," he said. "I'll eat anything." He didn’t actually want to eat. When he thought of food, all he could think of was that blinding pain in his stomach.

"Got it," Stark said. He flashed Loki a grin, but all too soon it disappeared and was replaced by that expression of sadness again. Or pity.

And then he was gone.

()()()

"T-shirt," Stark said, taking the folded piece of clothing out of the laundry basket he had placed beside Loki's bed, and putting it onto the mattress. Loki moved his leg away so that Stark wouldn't end up touching him, even through the blanket. "Sweatshirt." It was green. "Pants." Black jeans, and sweatpants. "Underwear. Socks. Shoes. Good?" And it was, actually. Very good. 

"Yes."

"Good. Ahmm..." Stark took a water bottle out of the laundry basket, and handed it to Loki. "Water," he said, unnecessarily. Loki wasn't so stupid that he didn't know what a water bottle was. "And I had Jarvis order Chinese. Don't worry; the delivery guy'll just leave it somewhere on the beach somewhere that way," he pointed at the far wall. "I think. And I'll go out in my boat and grab it. And I'll be wearing shades and a hat so it's fine, no one'll recognize me. Convoluted plan, I know, but worth it for takeout, doncha think?"

"Yes." Although he didn’t want to eat. 

"Good," Stark said, for the third time. Like he was trying to convince himself that something in this situation could be anything but horrible, and do anything but hurt.

But he plowed stubbornly onward, rambling about Chinese food - "You'll love the fried rice. It's my favorite thing on the menu, and it's got soy sauce and veggies and eggs and chicken and..." - even leaning his elbow on the bed, and resting his head against it. Loki shifted away, but Stark gave no sign that he noticed. And he didn't move his elbow.

Even after what he had seen? Even after he had discovered the word that was burned into Loki's chest? Even after he had witnessed his panic, his decline into a begging, sobbing mess?

Just another sign that he was a Chitauri. No human, especially not Stark, would want to be so close to Loki after what he had seen. It had to be a Chitauri - or even Thanos. After all, they had  _ never  _ shown any aversion to touching him.

But he would stick to the plan. And he would still pretend that this was real.

Or was it better to abandon all hope?

To be resigned to the fact that it was false?

He would break less if he abandoned his hopes. He would break less.

But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he had pushed it away. No. He may be pathetic and weak and worthless and stupid but he wasn't going to give up. He needed a purpose. He needed something to live for.

"I said thank you," Loki murmured, staring vacantly at the opposite wall. "But I don't think you understood how much I meant it. I don’t actually want to die. Especially not at the hands of a fool like Fury."

Stark was silent for a few moments, taking in his words. His voice was quieter when he spoke. And he didn't look at Loki. "I didn't even think about it. I mean, I did. But it was one of the easiest decisions I've ever made. To get you the hell out of there, that is." Now he did turn his head to look at Loki. It was strange to be positioned above someone. "I told you before - I could tell that someone hurt you," he said it almost apologetically, as if sorry to be bringing this up again. "And I knew that no one else would have believed me. So I had to get you out."

The atmosphere felt tenser now. Heavy. Serious.

"What will you do if your friends come and try to kill me again?"

"Firstly, they won't. Secondly, even if they did, I wouldn't give you up. I need to know the whole story first. I need to be sure."

Then ask for the story. Foolish mortal, don't you know that all you have to do is ask?

But he didn’t ask.

()()()

He picked at the Chinese food, but only ate about a mouthful of rice. It took a lot of willpower to even eat that much, and by the time he had, he was too on edge to eat any more. Stark also introduced him to fortune cookies. Stark cracked his open first, and read it aloud. “You will be rewarded for being a good listener. Accept the gift,” he read. His smile disappeared briefly after he read it, but it reappeared soon after, as he handed the second cookie to Loki.

Loki’s said, “Financial prosperity is coming your way.” 

Stark shrugged, and shoved another forkful of rice in his mouth.

Loki was left to wonder at the fact that he was having dinner with the man he had thrown out of a window, only two months ago. 

“So do you like it?” Stark asked, once he had finished chewing. There was still food in his mouth, and Loki carefully avoided looking at it.

“ _ Já, það er gott _ ,” Loki said, accidentally forgetting to switch to English. 

Stark tensed up. 

“Sorry,” Loki said. “I just meant that yes, it was good.”

Stark nodded, smiling again, but he didn’t relax.

()()()

The robot cleared away their dishes. 

“Seems like your intellect is simply used as fuel for your laziness,” Loki said. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his legs dangling over the side and his hands clasped in his lap. He felt stiff. Probably because of all the bandages.

Stark, who was sitting on the floor with his laptop balanced precariously on his knees, snorted. He did that a lot. “You’re not the first to tell me that. Although you used much bigger words.”

Loki smiled, even though Stark wasn’t looking at him so there was no reason to. His hair fell over his face, and he breathed in deeply, because it smelled like lavender soap. Stark had allowed him to take a shower, and Loki had been able to force down the panic at the thought of being naked in his house again. Stark hadn’t been anywhere near the bathroom, and even his robots had been forbidden to enter. And the shower felt heavenly. So did the clothes. They weren’t dirty. Or bloody. Or torn.

Stark went back to typing.

_ What are you working on? _ Loki wanted to ask.

And, once he had imagined asking one question, others crowded around in his mind, demanding to be let out.

_ When are you going to ask what happened to me? _

_ What do you want from me? _

_ And what are you going to do to get it? _

_ Is this real? _

He didn’t ask. Instead, he just kept hitting his heel against the side of the bed. Thump. Thump. Thump. Stark glanced up, and Loki stopped. 

“Sorry,” he said.

Stark’s lips thinned. “‘S fine,” he said, looking back down at his laptop. 

A few minutes later, he closed it abruptly, jumping up. The sudden loud noise and the movement made Loki flinch, but Stark did a good job of pretending not to notice. He rubbed his hands together, and then balled his fists and raised his arms to the ceiling, in a stretch. “Whisky,” he said, holding out his hand. The robot, Jug, provided him with a glass of it. Stark took a drink. 

“Do you ever drink water?” Loki asked.

Stark met his gaze flatly, unimpressed. “No,” he said. “Water is for dull mortals. Us geniuses drink alcohol.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, waiting impatiently.

Stark glanced down at the glass in his hand. Then, he held it out. “Want some? We never had that drink...” the ice clinked against the side, the amber liquid rising and falling..

Loki shifted, leaning back and using his hands to hold himself up. He cocked his head to the side. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Stark had a strange look on his face. Something like confusion. As if he was trying to figure something out. But he walked to Loki’s bedside anyway, and handed it to him.

Loki took it, bandaged fingers wrapping around the cold glass. He hesitated - but Stark had drank from it, so it couldn’t be poisoned - and took a sip.

He didn’t particularly enjoy the taste - it wasn’t nearly as strong as the stuff on Asgard. But he smiled anyway. Grinned, almost. And Stark’s lips twitched when Loki handed it back to him. “Good?” he asked.

“Very good,” Loki said. 

()()()

Stark didn’t return to his laptop after that. Instead, he pulled up a chair and sat a few feet away, across from Loki. He just watched him for a few moments, and Loki shifted uncomfortably before forcing himself to stay still. He didn’t like being watched.

Stark’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Was he going to ask now? Finally?

And if he did, would Loki panic again? Would he start to beg, again?

He hoped not. But he couldn’t be sure. He used to have such control over his emotions. He used to have so much.

Just… so much.

Briefly, he thought of Thor.

Then he stopped, because panic had spiked into his chest. The sound of knees hitting the ground echoed through his head.

So yes, if he was already panicking at the mere thought of Thor, he would definitely end up begging if Stark asked him to  _ describe _ it.

But Stark didn’t.

“I won’t ask,” he said. “Because I know that you don’t want to tell me yet. And I know what that feels like. Not wanting people to know. So I won’t ask. But, eventually, I will need to know.”

“I have questions, too,” Loki said.

“Fire away. I’ll answer them if I can.”

But Loki couldn’t. Couldn’t ask. This day had already taken too much out of him. 

_ “Always whining. Always  _ asking _ for things. As if you deserve it. Listen closely, pet. If I give you food, water, if I allow you to wear clothes, to sleep in a bed, it is a gift. It is nothing that you deserve.” _

But Thanos hadn’t even needed to tell him. Loki had figured it out long ago, that things were always worse whenever he asked. Whenever he spoke.

So he kept his mouth shut, and his eyes on the ground. 

"Sorry," he said, because he knew he was supposed to apologize whenever he did anything wrong. "Nevermind. I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around his chest, wondering if he had waited too long before apologizing. Would Stark hit him for that? 

"Don't be," he said, with that strange look in his eyes again. "You did nothing wrong."

Loki couldn't decide between being angry at each blow his broken pride kept taking, or relieved that Stark wasn't going to hurt him.

So he just looked away.

He wished Stark would leave.

But he couldn't ask him to.

"I hacked into SHIELD," Stark said, sounding proud of himself. He kept bouncing his knee. "They won't find us."

"Thank you," Loki murmured.

_ But why would you protect me, really? _

_ What do you want? _

Stark continued. "And… I mean, we're safe here, so we can stay as long as we need to. Until everything calms down. If it does."

The need to know, to understand, was rising up in Loki's chest, similar to how it felt when he was panicking, except it wasn't as sharp.

But after what had happened earlier, everything felt dangerous, everything felt like it was going to come out of the shadows and grab him. 

But he had to know.

How could he be safe if he didn't know why Stark was helping him in the first place?

Pity. That couldn't be all it was. That was never all it was. 

Pity was always false. A pretense, to hide the true motives that lay beneath.

"And we should be fine here for the time being," Stark continued. "There's food here, but not much. I can keep going to the mainland to get food for a while, but I think we should leave after a week or so, just in case. I've got tons of places like these all over the country, so we can..."

"Why?" Loki burst out. Interrupting him.

He shouldn't have interrupted.

He shouldn't have asked. Shouldn't have asked. He...

Sucked in a breath, swallowed, and clawed at the sheets, backing away until his back hit the wall. Panic. Panic was a dagger in his chest, eating up all the air, all of his thoughts. Darkness. Shadows. And Stark was going to find him, grab him, touch him. All over, and he wouldn't stop. He would never stop...

"What do you mean?" Stark asked. "Why what? And hey, hey, Jarv, is he okay? Is he..."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. Trying to calm down. Even though Stark had already witnessed him panicking, he still hated being seen like this. And he didn't want to start begging.

It took a few minutes, but he was able to fight off the worst of the panic. To come back to himself, and remember that Stark (for the time being) wasn't a Chitauri. In fact, Stark had saved him from SHIELD, had taken him here. He said it was because he knew that Loki had been tortured, but that couldn't be the whole truth.

And so Loki had asked why.

He focused on that. On the question. He used to love asking questions.

"Loki?" Stark asked, softly. 

He watched Stark cautiously, taking in his posture, his movements. Stark raised his hand, but only to scratch his chin.

Loki wished he would leave.

Or speak.

Or just hit him. Just get it over with.

He hated waiting like this. Waiting for something to happen.

Eventually, Stark did speak. "What did you mean when you asked... what'd you mean 'why'?"

Loki had to fight the urge to sigh. Stark was truly an idiot. "Why I'm here," he said. "Why you are actually helping me. What you want in return."

That wasn’t the entire list, though, was it?

“And why you won’t just ask what happened to me,” he said, his voice growing louder as his anger seeped through. He quickly forced it back down. “You want to know. You’ll need to know, eventually. Just ask. Get it over with.”

Because he was used to questions, used to the pain that followed when he gave the wrong answer. But he wasn’t used to waiting. And he hated feeling so anxious.

Stark stared at him. His knees stopped bouncing. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “Oh. Okay. Um… well. You’re here because, well, I told you before. You’re here because I…” he paused, seeming to look through Loki at something far away. “Did I ever tell you what happened to me in Afghanistan?”

Loki was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. “No. Let me guess: you got sunburned.”

Stark actually laughed at that. He seemed relieved to be laughing. But it quickly disappeared. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. “Um… yeah, I did get sunburned, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.” He looked up, directly meeting Loki’s eyes. “Have you heard of terrorists?”

And that was how Stark ended up telling Loki about his time spent in Afghanistan, kidnapped by a terrorist group called the Ten Rings, tortured in an attempt to get him to build for them. He told Loki about the secret weapon that he built - the first Iron Man. He told Loki about Yinsen, the man who died.

Loki was surprised by his story. He hadn’t expected that.

But he was more surprised by the fact that Stark would tell him this. His enemy. Didn’t he know that Loki could use this as a weapon against him, if he so chose? Fill a bucket with water and shove Stark’s head in?

Not that he would.

Just the thought of doing so made him want to take another shower. Just the thought of doing so made him feel dirty.

But still. Didn’t Stark know who was sitting across from him?

“And when I saw you in there, I could tell. Could tell that something awful had happened to you,” Stark continued, looking down at his clasped hands. “And I knew that no one else would see. And if they did, they wouldn’t care. So I had to help you, because I would never forgive myself if I didn’t and it turned out that… that you had needed help, and I just hadn’t given a damn. Cause I’m not like that. Other people can just look away, and pretend like they don’t see. I used to be one of those people, but... I’m not anymore.”

Stark sucked in a breath.

“What were your other questions?” he asked.

Loki couldn’t remember at first. Panic rose up automatically, but he fought it down. He had to remember. He  _ had _ to remember.

“You okay?” Stark asked. “Just… I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

“No. You didn’t,” Loki said, because it was true. Stark hadn’t. And if his story was true, then Stark had truly done nothing wrong, and had instead done many things right.

Stark could be lying, of course. But that didn’t make  _ sense. _ If he wanted to get something from Loki, wanted to use him for something, why was he allowed to walk freely in this room? He had tried the door; it wasn’t locked, but he hadn’t been able to work up the courage to leave. And if he wanted Loki to be hurt, he could have hurt him when he was drugged to unconsciousness.

But there had to be, there  _ had _ to be something. Something else. Stark  _ had _ to be lying. 

“Why won’t you ask me what happened?” Loki asked.

Stark hesitated before answering. And his voice came out quiet, and slurred, as if he was drunk, the words melting together. “Didn’t want to trigger anything. Y’know. Just in case. Thought it would be best to wait, to be sure.”

Loki needed Stark to trust him. So he could get his magic back. And Stark wouldn’t trust him until Loki answered his questions.

“You can ask,” he said, Softly. With an out-of-place smile on his lips. 

“Okay,” Stark said. “What happened?”

Loki’s fingers flexed, as that anger rose up in him again, and he embraced it, buried himself in it, because it felt familiar, it felt like being  _ him _ again. He imagined Thanos face contorting in agony. Stark’s brow furrowed, so Loki forced his face back to blankness, from whatever it had been before.

And he remembered them taking him in the night, stealing him out of his cell, claws on his skin. 

He wanted to take the pillow, and hug it to his chest. So instead he stood up abruptly, his hands clenching into fists, unclenching into stiff spiders, grabbing at his shirt and twisting the cloth. He let out a huff of a breath like an angry bull. 

The urge to lie was like a tangible thing. He wanted so badly to pretend that Thanos had not been able to overpower him. That the pain hadn’t affected him. That he wasn’t broken.

But he couldn’t.

So he started to pace. Like a wild animal, pacing in front of the bed. Stark’s head swiveled as his eyes followed him, and then he gave up and looked back down at the floor.

“It was Thanos. And his Chitauri,” Loki said. His voice came out hard, and stiff. “He was angry because of my failure. And he had promised me…” he broke into laughter, a laughter like shards of glass, cutting. “He promised me a new kind of suffering, if I failed. I failed anyway. You saw!” he cried, turning on Stark. “You were there, you witnessed my failure. And even while I was wasting away in my cell in Asgard, I knew he would come for me. Thanos loves only two things: death and revenge.”

“Seems in-character,” Stark said.

Loki’s lips split in a smile, or perhaps a grimace, as he bared his teeth. “Very.”

And the anger pulsed through his words like a heartbeat. Rage. 

“You saw what he did to me. Or the results of what he did,” Loki said. He continued to pace. “The Mad Titan is inventive, yes. But to use such crude methods of torture - he must have thought to humiliate me.” He waved his hand through the air dismissively. “I suppose he succeeded. But it was his downfall. He was so focused on humiliating me that he left me alive.”

Stark’s eyes were on him again, following him closely. Solemnly. “It’s not humiliating. You don’t have to be ashamed because of what happened to you.”

Loki brushed his words aside. He only acknowledged them by shooting Stark an irritated glance, before looking away again and continuing to pace.

“I tricked him,” he said. “I tricked the Mad Titan.” He wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “It was the ‘green thing’, as you so elegantly put it. A device, not quite strong enough to heal me, but to return my body to a stronger state, although the wounds didn’t disappear. He used to give it to me, briefly. Only so that I wouldn’t pass out.”

He didn’t dare look at Stark’s face.

“He would always take it away again.”

Loki flexed his fingers.

“I need it, Stark. I don’t think you understand. It can erase… it could remove this,” he touched his finger tip lightly to his chest. They both knew what was hidden beneath his shirt. “And nothing else can. He burned it there with magic, Stark. You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me, then,” Stark said. Voice so soft.

Loki looked at him, but focused on his forehead, instead of his eyes. “The Titan’s magic is different,” he began. “Everyone’s magic is different. But he has lived for millennia, so his magic is deeper, stronger, can seep into the most protected of places. Me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “And my magic is already gone. Taken. By Odin. He has it.” Loki allowed his voice to tremble. “So the Titan’s magic was able to pierce me. And nothing will heal that wound,” he raised his arms. “Aside from the  _ tígrisdýr auga,  _ which…”

“What?”

Loki heaved an exasperated breath. “Tiger Eye. Healing stone, infused with magic. Weren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

“Healing what?”

Loki ran a hand down the side of his face. “Not important. But consider it a shield, and Thanos’ magic a sword. With the  _ tígrisdýr  _ gone, nothing is shielding me, and his magic is still cutting into me, even now. He may not have killed me then, but if this continues, I will die.”

Stark jumped out of his chair, making Loki flinch, and turn to glare at him. “Are you saying you still need help? I thought I’d fixed up all your injuries, but is there something else?”

“It’s not a physical wound,” Loki snapped. “It is a magical one. You can’t  _ see _ it.”

Stark stared at him. “But what... but then... what are you saying?”

Loki stalked forward, towards him, and Stark took a step back. “That it really would be appreciated if you could return the stone to me, so that I don’t drop dead in the middle of your living room.”

Stark crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against his forearm. “You aren’t in the living room.” He lowered his voice, mumbling almost to himself. “And if you dropped dead then you  _ really _ wouldn’t be in the living room.” He coughed, and raised his voice to a normal level again “But point taken. And yeah, I agree. That would be the worst rescue attempt ever. So I’ll see what I can do. How long do you think… I mean, how bad is it?”

Loki practically snarled, before whirling around and starting to pace again. “Probably the equivalent of a dagger to the chest.” Even though it wasn’t real, he hated that it felt like he was exposing a weakness to Stark.

“Oh. That bad?”

Loki raised his eyes to the ceiling. Perhaps he would find some competence there, and he could give it to Stark. “Yes. That bad.”

“Huh. So how are you walking?”

“It doesn’t… it’s not…  _ Stark _ !” Loki sputtered. And then he nearly laughed at how worked up he was getting over an injury that he didn’t have. “It’s not a physical injury,” he spoke slowly as if he was a teacher trying to teach addition to a very slow child. “It won’t affect my ability to walk.”

“Then what does it affect?” Stark sounded genuinely curious.

And Loki was more than happy to teach him. He loved talking about magic. 

“My  _ seidr _ \- my magic - is, for me, more fundamental than my bones. It structures me, but is also an extension of myself. It is, at once, my roots and my branches, and I am the trunk of the tree. If my magic is injured, it is like the roots and the branches are ripped away from the trunk,” he jerked his fist through the air to demonstrate. “No injuries will show on the trunk, but it will die nonetheless.”

“Ah.”

Loki examined Stark closely, wondering if he actually understood or was just pretending to. 

“Thus, the wound is much more grievous for me than it would be for, say, Thor, or for you. While every being has a certain amount of  _ seidr _ to structure them, not many can use it, and very few to the extent that I do. So a physical wound does not affect me as much as it would you, but a magical wound is much more deadly.”

“Oh.” Stark paused. “So when I thought that I’d actually helped you by cleaning up all the blood and putting on a few bandaids, you were still walking around with a stab wound that whole time?”

Loki cocked his head to the side. He flexed his fingers, remembering, again, that Stark had seen his naked body, and knew all of what had been done to him. “You could put it that way, if you wanted to feel unnecessary guilt.”

“Wait. You took the stairs with a  _ stab wound _ ?”

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Not physical, Stark.”

“But it still hurts.”

Loki huffed in annoyance. Or in anger. “Yes. Yes, it hurts. There. I hope you’re satisfied.”

It wasn’t an entire lie. There may not have been any magical wound, thank the Norns, but his ankle still throbbed, and his back still felt like fire whenever he accidentally leaned against something, and his chest ached. It always ached. And he wondered if, even if Stark gave his magic back and he was eventually able to heal himself, it would ever stop aching.

“I’m not  _ satisfied, _ ” Stark snapped. “And can you at least sit down?”

Loki glanced at him sharply. “I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Stark said.

It was a order. 

He sat down.

“That’s better,” Stark said. He was examining the floor very closely. A few silent seconds passed, which Loki spent clenching his hands into fists. When Stark spoke again, he sounded rigid. “I’ll get it for you.”

Their eyes met.

“Thank you,” Loki said, and meant it. 

He didn’t understand this.

Loki was his enemy. He had thrown Stark out a window, and had killed people while attacking New York. Loki was pathetic, he was weak and worthless. He was a Frost Giant. He had been used, and beaten, and broken, and he couldn’t go five minutes without panicking. 

Even if he had had some deadly magical wound, why would Stark want to give him something that could fix it?   
Perhaps he didn’t want Loki to die so soon. After all, he wouldn’t get to have his  _ fun _ then.

But why hadn’t he taken out his anger on Loki when Loki was unconscious?

Perhaps he wanted to hear his screams.

But when Stark gestured towards the doorway, he followed as he led him through the labyrinth that was the Minnesota Shack. And he memorized the turns, just in case.

They came to a room that was undoubtedly Stark’s bedroom. While there were no posters, and not as many clothes on the floor this time, the bed was just as messy, and the few possessions that were in the room were strewn across the floor.

Stark cleared his throat. “Jarvis. Get the safe.”

It folded out of the wall. A metal box, with a lock on it, and a screen beside the lock.

Stark glanced back at Loki. “Crude, I know. It’s the best I’ve got.” Stark pressed his thumb to the screen. Then a keyboard folded out of the box. “Would you mind looking away?” Stark asked, hands poised over the keyboard, ready to type.

Loki shook his head. He turned his back.

“Okay. Done.”

He turned back around as the safe’s door swung open. And the little, dying ball of green light that was his magic was lying there, filling the safe with its light. 

He stepped forward like a man caught in the song of a siren, arms outstretched. He grabbed it, cradled it in his hands, held it to his chest. He was an empty void, and it was the air that was filling him, making him into  _ something _ instead of nothing. 

It flickered dimly when he touched it, flickered somewhere within the empty void that he carried with him, flickered back to life. And it was weak, so weak. But he could already feel it growing again, whispering of newness and life and power. He closed his eyes.

“Good?” Stark asked.

“Good,” Loki said.

He turned towards Stark. 

Wondering why the Chitauri would ever give him his magic back. And he knew the answer - they wouldn't. They would never give it back.

None of this made sense.

Loki would have puzzled over his actions further, tried (and failed) to understand them, but his attention was caught by his magic again. It felt so right in his hands. He closed his eyes again, breathing it in.

Despite its rightness, it scared him.

After he escaped Thanos, he had been free for a week before SHIELD found him. And his magic had had a week to regrow. If it got that strong again, would SHIELD find him again?

Stark had said that he would keep Loki safe, but Loki didn’t…

Or did he believe him?

He couldn’t.

But a part of him did, regardless.

Stupid. You can’t trust him. Didn’t you learn anything from Thanos? You can’t trust anyone. He never intended to give you your magic back. He still plans to hurt you, despite what he said.

And you know that he isn't even real. That eventually, he'll just turn to smoke, or his skin will melt away and it'll be just like _ the last time. _ You know it's true. You can forget anything, everything, but you can't forget that.

Loki would just have to be smart. (Even though he was too stupid to follow simple orders. But he would try. He used to be smart, after all.)

It wouldn’t take long - only a day or two - for his magic to strengthen to the point that he could teleport. He would get away from here, and he would find a safe place to recover, where there was nowhere nearby to witness his panic at every little movement or loud noise. No one nearby who might decide to hurt him on a whim.

If Stark was a Chitauri, then so be it. If he wasn't, then Loki would be gone. Would be safe. Would be... would be free.

And if SHIELD came looking for him again, this time he would tear them apart.

He must have smiled at the thought, because Stark said, “You know, it’s nice to see you smile like that. Like you mean it.”

Loki glanced at him, utterly baffled as to why Stark would say such a thing.

He was starting to suspect that he would never understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually got the little fortune cookie messages from a Playbuzz quiz, and those were the ones I got on my first go. Yeah, I'm not creative enough to come up with my own, lol.  
> Thanks for reading! And have a lovely weekend :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I love writing this so much. But I’m also so far ahead! I’m in chapter twenty-five now, probably because it’s summer and literally all I’m doing is write this, so… yayyy? (omg I love writing this so much haha).  
> And I’m sure y’all want spoilers (unless you don’t care that much which is totally fine I can relate to that) but um that’s too bad, you’ll just have to wait. Even though I’m really excited for you to see everything I’m written urghhh.  
> And this chapter is basically sadness interspersed with banter, panic attacks, and food (there is a shit ton of food in this story. Maybe I’m just eternally hungry and living vicariously through Tony’s constant tendency to gorge himself on fast food? idk).  
> DocWordsmith is an amazing beta reader thanks so much!!  
> And you guys are awesome for leaving comments and kudos (I've got 300 kudos! That means 300 people have read this AND liked it!!) so here’s a weird emoji for you here you go: (*^o^*)  
> Song would be State Lines by Novo Amor because it’s soo pretty oh my god.  
> Hehe enjoy the angst!

Tony knew that the guy had done terrible things. And he knew, that just maybe, he didn’t deserve any forgiveness for those things. Maybe didn’t deserve any help.

And sure, Tony hadn’t forgiven him yet.

But he wasn’t about to stop helping.

And he didn’t know why. It wasn’t that he knew why he  _ was _ going to help, as much as he knew that he couldn’t survive the bone-crushing guilt that would come if he stopped.

And his smile when he held the Tiger Eye to his chest had been worth it.

Because Tony couldn’t shake the hunch that that had been the first real smile he had ever seen on Loki’s lips. It went to his eyes. And, like a lightbulb had been turned on somewhere within him, it lit him up, it made him bright. 

A more disturbing thought was that Loki had been walking around with the equivalent of a stab wound to the chest, and there had been absolutely no sign of the pain that had caused. Tony hadn’t even noticed that anything was wrong.

It was clear that he was trying so hard to be strong, to act like everything was normal. To joke and laugh with his standard brand of wit. But too often Tony could see it leaking through - in the way he would subtly draw away from him, or flinch, or freeze up when Tony asked him a question. He was afraid of accidentally moving too fast, or speaking too loud, or doing something else that would send him into another panic attack.

A small one had just hit him, and Loki was visibly working to pull himself together. Tony looked away, humming casually, pretending not to notice. “Y’know, I was thinking that we could get you your own room. A proper room. You don’t want to sleep in the hospital.” He almost added “ _ right?” _ But thought better of it. It was clear that Loki didn’t like answering or asking questions. He wondered what fucked up torture method those assholes had used to get him so scared of them.

He wanted to shoot them down. Like he had the Ten Rings. He wanted to hear them scream and beg for mercy, then shoot them anyway.

“That sounds good,” Loki said, once he had calmed down. His voice wasn’t thin, or shaky, or anything. Perfectly steady. And when he looked at Tony, one of his eyebrows was raised ever-so-slightly. “I would prefer to sleep in a bed that isn’t bloody.”

So they had both agreed that Loki was going to sleep here.

Live here.

Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling. And it irked him, because he had  _ no fucking idea why he was smiling. _ But he did anyway.

“Wipe that idiotic grin off your face,” Loki said, brushing past him as he walked back to the hospital room. He must have memorized the turns. Impressive. Tony had already gotten lost several times. The last time he had been here was when he was building the place, after all. He wasn’t blessed with a map in his head where his brain should be, like Loki apparently was.

“Why are you going back in there?” Tony asked, when Loki stopped in front of the hospital door. “Don’t you want a new room?”

Loki turned around. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” he was quiet for a moment. Then, “Yes, that would be good.”

Tony smiled encouragingly. “Then follow me.”

He took Loki to the only other bedroom in the Minnesota Shack: small, with a fluffy white carpet, a bed shoved in the corner, and a bathroom. There was a jacuzzi next to the shower.

Yeah, Tony had outdone himself.

But he was glad that he had. It was definitely paying off now.

But he couldn’t suppress a pang of… sadness? - when he saw Loki standing in the doorway, his only possession the green stone he was clutching to his chest. He wouldn’t be able to fill this room with his possessions - favorite books, worn-out clothes, posters on the walls. At the moment, he only owned himself and the stone.

So Tony said, “There are clothes in the drawers. You can keep them. Like, keep them, keep them. They’re all yours. Forever. And if they don’t fit, or you want something different, just tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

Loki blinked. And nodded, slowly. 

He stepped inside.

“You’re a billionaire, and yet you can’t pay for a proper wall color?” he said.

Of course. Of course that would be the first thing he would say.

Tony moved to stand next to him. “What’s wrong with beige?” he asked, crossing his arms. Immediately he winced because he had asked a question, and he kept  _ doing _ that accidentally - why couldn’t he think before he spoke?

But Loki just sighed loudly as if Tony was the biggest idiot on earth. “It’s drab,” he said, gesturing towards the wall. “You designed this place. What does this color say about you? Nothing, except that you’re  _ drab _ .”

“Point taken, wall-color police. But this is just a safe-house. You saw my actual bedroom.”

“White,” Loki said. “Which says that you are about as interesting as a blank sheet of paper.” He smiled mischievously.

“Fine, then. What color is  _ your _ bedroom wall?” Tony regretted asking as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to make Loki homesick or anything.

But Loki gave no sign that he was homesick. He seemed to be finding this useless banter just as enjoyable as Tony was. “If you must know,” he said. “It is black.”

“Of course,” Tony said. “Of course it is. And that says… that you’re emo.”

They stared at each other.

“What does that mean?” Loki asked.

“Nothing.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, then spun on his heel and stalked over to the bed. He placed his palm on it. “Acceptable.” He crossed the room and stuck his head into the bathroom. “Yes, this will be tolerable for the time being.”

“Pssh. You aren’t very grateful, are you?”

Tony hadn’t intended to speak too loudly, or sound too harsh, but he must have, because Loki’s breath caught, and he pressed his back up against the doorframe, and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to be… ungrateful.  _ Fyrirgefðu.  _ Sorry. ”

Tony wanted to punch himself.

“It’s okay,” he said, putting his hands up, and walking back a step. “I was just joking. I’m not mad.”

Loki stayed like that for what was probably only ten seconds, but felt like much longer. Then, slowly, he let out a breath, and stepped away from the doorframe. “ _ Auðvitað _ ,” he said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Of course. I know.” He held the stone tightly to his chest again, still breathing too fast, but there were no other signs that anything was wrong. “I know. I just… I don’t know why this keeps happening.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, eyes actually widening slightly (Tony had thought that only happened in really unrealistic books) as his eyes snapped up to meet Tony’s. He probably hadn’t meant to admit that out loud.

Tony knew he should say something, or look away, or do anything other than stare at him. But what he had said struck a chord somewhere deep inside. A chord that he hadn’t known existed, and it made some really weird music, which manifested itself in the sudden, and unexpected, watering of his eyes.

Shit.

He blinked it away, but Loki had probably noticed. He was good at noticing things like that.

But he glanced casually away from Tony, and his gaze didn’t linger any longer than normal on his eyes. “Anyway,” he said. “You probably have things to do. You can go. I’ll be fine here. Settling in,” he waved his hand towards the door.

What an unexpectedly  _ kind _ way of saying, “Get the fuck out.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. Um, I’ll get dinner for us. It’s almost nine, actually. Cause we ate at four. But I saw a Taco Bell on the mainland. Have you had Mexican before?”

Loki looked at him, exasperation clear in his eyes. “Stark. We are space vikings. We don’t have  _ Mexican food.” _

And at that, Tony burst out laughing.

When he wiped the tears from his eyes (they weren’t entirely caused by his laughter), Loki was smiling almost shyly at him. And it definitely wasn’t on purpose, because that wasn’t very Loki of him. But it was small and it was  _ shy _ and it was there. Tony grinned in response.

And, again, he was impressed by how this guy had gone from panicking - probably having a flashback to the brutal torture he had gone through - to  _ joking _ with him. It was fucking impressive. 

“Okay. Um. See you,” Tony said. 

He left.

And it was a short jet boat ride to the mainland. A short walk to the Taco Bell. No one recognized him as the charming billionaire he was - it was almost comical, how easily people could be fooled by a hat and sunglasses - but even though he knew that there was no way SHIELD could have found them, he was on edge the whole time, and only felt at ease once he was back at the Minnesota Shack.

And if some of that relief was because he was able to walk to Loki’s room, and peer in (only after knocking) to be sure that he was okay, then so what?

“Mexican,” he said, holding up the greasy bag. “I got us the whole shebang.” He began to place the tinfoil-wrapped delicacies on Loki’s table. “Burritos: bean and seven layer. Chicken quesadillas. Cinnamon twists. And, of course, the crunchwrap supreme," he held it up. "The Holy Grail of the Taco Bell menu. Here," he handed it to Loki, who had gotten up when he entered.

Loki unwrapped it in the daintiest way that was physically possible, but still got grease on his fingers. He licked it off. Then took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Scrunched his face up in thought. "It's decent," he said.

"Decent?"

"Acceptable."

_ "Acceptable?" _

"Better," Loki said, pausing to lick his fingers again. "Than freshly-caught, still-bleeding boar drenched in mead, with more mead on the side, to wash it down. But that's not saying much."

"This is the pinnacle of fake Mexican food." Tony unwrapped his own and took a monstrous bite. "It is, at once," he spoke awkwardly around the food in his mouth, "Spicy, yet retaining a depth of flavor. It contains the freshness of the lettuce, and the horrendous greasiness of the beef - all without the slightest hint of mead. You couldn't want anything more."

He handed Loki a burrito. “Here; try this,” he said, going back to the bag and hunting around until he found another crunchwrap, wolfing it down and getting sauce all over his fingers.

Then Loki announced, "I'm full," and plopped his unfinished burrito into Tony's hands. He really hadn’t eaten much, but who knows, maybe he just hadn’t been very hungry. It was probably good that he didn’t gorge himself - going from starving to feasting was never a good idea.

He had only nibbled off the corner of the burrito, and Tony didn't bother ripping that part away. He took a bite, devouring the remains of the corner, and a good chunk of the burrito. By the way Loki's face scrunched up, he must have thought it was gross. But it was just saliva. Basically water. And Tony had shared plenty of people's saliva before, so what was the big deal?

That reminded him of the note Janet… Janice…  _ whatever _ -her-fucking name-was had left on his bed.

_ "Ur an asshole. Don't call or txt me again." _

The one thing that Tony hated more than people who left notes instead of actually talking about their issues was people who used stupid abbreviations in those notes.

But it wasn't as if he was particularly concerned. He had never been looking to have a long-term relationship with her. She was more of a one-time hookup thing. Nothing more. He had tossed the note in the trash the first chance he got. He wasn't even sure why he had brought it.

Tony looked back down at his burrito. It was almost gone. He dangled the rest in front of Loki's face. "Sure you don't want some?"

And Loki started panicking again. Breathing fast, flattening himself against the back of the chair, looking at the burrito like it was going to eat him. Tony dropped it without even realizing he had let go.

Loki recovered faster this time, closing his eyes and slowing his breaths. Tony saw his lips moving, but no sound came out.

However, when he opened his eyes again and looked at Tony, their light mood had vanished.

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "I don't know what I did. It might be helpful if, if you told me, so I don't do it again. But you don't have to. I'm just saying." He wished he could take back the words, but at the same time he knew he was right. How could he avoid scaring Loki if he didn't know what he was doing that kept scaring him?

"I'll tell you," Loki said. But he didn't speak for a long moment. "Um." Deep breath. "They..." Deep breath.

"It's really okay. You don't have to tell me anything. You've already told me a lot, earlier, and it might be best to wait for a while."

Loki's gaze felt heavier, somehow. Not quite like he was examining him, but more like he was confirming something that he already knew. And he kept looking at Tony like that for a long time, until he glanced away, at the wall, and said, "They offered me food. It was poisoned."

And the more Tony thought about it, the more horrible it was. 

And the way he said it. Casually, as if it didn't fucking matter. As if he was commenting on the color of Tony's wall again.

It was fucked up.

"But you ate this," Tony said, gesturing towards the crumpled up wrappers, the half-eaten tacos. "And didn't even have me take a bite first."

When he thought about it, Loki had waited for Tony to eat first, when they were having Chinese. But it could still have easily been poisoned then, too. Why hadn't Loki asked Tony to take a bite of his, to check?

Did Loki actually trust Tony enough to believe that it wouldn't be?

"That's true," Loki said, his eyes still on the wall. "I suppose I didn't."

Tony had so many questions.

But of course, he didn't ask any of them.

They sat in silence for much too long, to the point that it grew uncomfortable.

"I'm tired," Loki said.

"Of course. Yeah. Makes sense. It's late," Tony said, grateful for an excuse to shove all the trash into the paper bag and bolt.

But he paused in the doorway.

Loki had stood up from his chair, and was standing there with one arm crossed over his chest. His shirt was small height-wise, but too wide for him, so the neckline had slipped down and Tony could see the edge of the bandaid that was plastered to his chest, along with the winding tail-end of a white scar, snaking along his collarbone.

Loki had joked with him, laughed with him, eaten fucking  _ Taco Bell _ with him.

He shouldn't have so many scars.

"If there's anything you need, just tell Jarv to get me. Okay?" Tony said. He had never realized before how difficult it was to avoid ending a sentence with a question.

But Loki didn't panic (thank god), instead he did that shy smile again, and said, "Okay."

Tony smiled back. When he left, he left the door open a crack. The room was small, after all, and if he closed the door Loki might feel closed in, claustrophobic. And if he wanted it closed, then he could easily close it himself. Tony didn't want to ask him which he'd prefer.

He went to his own room. Brushed his teeth. Pulled on some sweatpants, because it was cold in Minnesota, and crawled into bed.

It was so...

Quiet.

But he was being an idiot. That was the fucking point. He was going to sleep, of course it should be quiet.

But he didn't sleep.

He kept thinking about Loki. About what they had done to him. About the word burned into his chest, and the whip marks on his back. Fury's voice: "Don't worry. We're gonna kill him." And the figure huddling in the corner of that SHIELD cell, cradling the Tiger Eye to his chest.

He had been so proud in New York. Not the kind of guy who would ever  _ huddle -  _ not that it was his fault.

But the things they had done to him…

Were so awful that they had  _ changed him _ . Had crept into his mind and filled it with such fear, so much that not even his stubborn pride could cover it all up.

()()()

"Please," Loki said. "Please. Please. Don’t. I'm sorry."

His face was streaked with tears. He was huddled in the corner, hugging a pillow to his chest. When Tony approached, he buried his face in it, shaking.

Tony's fist connected with his head anyway, making it snap to the side, and crack against the wall. Loki didn't make a sound.

()()()

Tony woke up sweating.

It was really gross.

"Ick," he said. "Mmmfghn."

He turned his face into the pillow, enjoying the darkness and the warmth for a moment before it became too hard to breathe.

And the dream came back to him.

His eyes shot open, and he said, "Shit," then covered his eyes with his hands, pressing down until patterns appeared, swirling around. "Shit shit shit." He hid his face in the pillow again. Grabbed the pillow, let his head fall back onto the mattress, and slammed the pillow down over his face.

"Jarvis?" he asked, as dread pooled in his chest again. He ripped the pillow away, and hurled it unnecessarily across the room. "Jar! Is Loki okay?"

**Mr. Odinson is awake in his room. His physical condition has not worsened.**

"Physical condition," Tony repeated. "But no panic attacks or anything?"

**Mr. Odinson has experienced no anxiety attacks during the night. However, I think you may like to know that he is not using the bed. He is lying in the corner of the room.**

Tony didn't like that. He might have expected it, but he didn't like it. Loki should get to sleep in a bed. He probably hadn't in a long, long time.

"Did he sleep at all last night?" Tony asked.

**For approximately four hours, sir.**

Four hours. They went to bed at around ten. And it was now... he checked the clock... seven.

So he had been huddled in the corner, probably semi-freaked out, for five hours.

Tony didn't like that either.

He wondered if Loki had had nightmares.

Probably.

Very likely worse ones than his.

So he groaned, and rolled out of bed. His foot got caught in the blanket, and he had to hop around awkwardly as he disentangled it. He tripped over a shoe on his way out the door.

Yawned, and ran a hand through his hair as he walked to Loki’s room. But he felt strange - he must have forgotten what it was like to actually sleep for more than two hours at a time. Despite the nightmare, he felt refreshed.

Maybe Pepper had been right. Maybe this whole “sleep” thing wasn’t so overrated.

He knocked on Loki’s door. “Hey! It’s morning.”

No reply.

“Loki? Can I come in?”

Nothing.

Tony was getting nervous. So he opened the door a crack, peering in.

Loki was curled up in the corner, and he was holding his pillow again, tightly to his chest. The Tiger Eye was clenched tightly in his fist - Tony could tell because it glowed, even through his skin. He seemed to be fine… until he noticed Tony. Then his eyes were open wide, his breathing erratic.

“Hey,” Tony said, crossing the room, and kneeling a few feet away. “What’s… You can tell me what’s wrong. That way, I can help you.”

Loki shrank away from him, going rigid as if he was bracing himself… as if he thought Tony was going to  _ hit _ him. Tony forced himself not to grimace, because he didn’t want to scare Loki by letting his anger show. Loki would assume that Tony was angry at him. But it was hard to control himself when Loki started to speak in another language, in that thin, shaking voice that Tony hated to hear. 

“It would be easier if you used English. I don’t speak that language.”

Tony could tell that Loki was trying, hard, to calm down.

“Follow my breathing. Just breathe along with me.” Tony breathed in and out, slowly. And, although Loki eyes were full of distrust, he obeyed, copying Tony’s breathing until his own became steadier.

“Can you repeat what you said in English now?”

Loki nodded.

“I don’t…” he tried, before breaking off.

“Take your time. I don’t mind.”

Loki took several deep breaths. “I don’t know… I don’t know why I’m here. Or where I am. Or why you’re here. I can’t… I can’t remember. I’m sorry… I’m so  _ stupid _ .” He pulled the pillow closer. His face was full of fear, but the disgust was clear in his voice. 

“Not true.  _ So _ not true.” But it was probably more important to remind him of where he was, before reminding him of how smart he was. “And as for where you are, you’re in my Minnesota Shack. I broke you out of SHIELD because Fury was going to execute you. Remember? And we had Chinese food, and Mexican, and you made fun of the color of my walls, and you told me about magic. Remember?”

“Why would… no, this isn’t real. You wouldn’t do that,” Loki said, sitting up suddenly. “You’re a Chitauri.”

“What? No, of course I’m not a Chitauri. How could I be a…? Loki, what do you…” Tony struggled to find a way to phrase it that wasn’t a question. Eventually, he gave up. “What do you mean, this isn’t real? And how could I be a Chitauri?”

Loki answered hastily, stumbling over his words, but at least he didn’t start to panic. Or, start to panic any more than he already was. “It’s an illusion. Just like last time. When you pretended to be Thor.”

_ What? _

But now Loki’s breathing was slowing. And when he next looked at Tony, his eyes held a spark of recognition. 

Tony didn’t ask any more questions. And it took a few moments, but eventually Loki said, “Stark.” The relief was clear in his voice.

“Yup. The one and only.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve always had a bad memory.” Loki said, as he shoved the pillow away in disgust. His breathing was still a bit off, but other than that, he seemed to have recovered. 

“Don’t be sorry. But what you were saying earlier…”

“I had a nightmare,” Loki said. He met Tony’s eyes squarely. “I must have forgotten what was real for a moment.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They had cereal for breakfast. Loki wasn’t in his best condition; he flinched when Tony accidentally hit his spoon against the side of his bowl, and when Tony reached across the table to grab the milk carton. And he didn’t remember the food they had had for dinner last night, until Tony described it to him in detail. 

But he did call the cereal, “Food fit only for peasants,” which was a good sign. Although he only ate about a spoonful of it.

By ten o’ clock, he was back to his usual (although still pretty messed up, all things considered) self.

Tony took him on a grand tour of the Shack, and Loki had a wonderful time using each wall color to relate to a different dull aspect of Tony’s personality. He also thoroughly ridiculed every piece of furniture - “Why is this couch so huge? Oh, yes, you wouldn’t fit in a smaller one, I suppose.” “A rocking chair? Do you knit, now?” “This rug looks like it used to be a sick, overweight dragon.”

“You have dragons in Asgard?”

To which Loki shot him a thoroughly exasperated glance. “Yes, Stark. We have giant fire-breathing  _ sky lizards _ in Asgard.”

Tony laughed, and Loki cracked a smile when he did.

Loki continued to mock every possible aspect of the place - “What is the point of having an exercise room if you so clearly never use it?” - but Tony didn’t appreciate the humor so much as he appreciated the fact that so many of Loki’s jokes included questions.

“Do you want to go outside?” Tony asked, when they reached the staircase.

Loki studied it, his eyes following the spiral of the staircase upwards. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

Tony offered him his arm, in case Loki couldn’t take the stairs easily. Loki eyed it, but it wasn’t with suspicion. It was something else entirely, something Tony couldn’t place. 

If Loki took his arm, this would be the first time they had touched since Tony had stuck the needle in his arm.

“I can manage,” Loki said, quietly.

Tony nodded, and dropped his arm back down to his side.

And Loki could manage. He was already doing so much better than he had been yesterday. Towards the end, he even took a few of the stairs two at a time. It was clear that he was excited to be going outside.

“Jarv. Get the door,” Tony said.

Above them, the sand caved in, and was caught in several slanted sheets of metal. It fell down into a storage container. When they wanted to close the hatch again, that container would swing up and dump the sand up over top of the door.

It wasn’t practical at all. But it was very dramatic. 

Loki ran up the rest of the steps. His feet sank deep into the sand, and he craned his neck to look at the sky. When Tony reached him, he saw that he was smiling.

Loki spun around, taking in the water that stretched seemingly forever into the horizon. They were in Lake Superior, and the air was frigid and the wind buffeted them, grabbing Loki’s hair in its hands and pulling. The water lapped at the shore of the sandbar like a sensual tongue.

“Good?” Tony asked.

“Very good,” Loki said, without looking away from the water. He walked to the shore and started ripping off his shoes and socks. Tony hadn’t expected that - he had thought Loki would be too princely to allow his toes to touch common Midgardian sand. But apparently he wasn’t.

He rolled up his pants and waded in up to his knees. Overhead, the light danced off the waves, cutting a trail straight to the sun. A seagull landed in the water in a bluster of feathers, and Loki flicked water at it. It flew away with an indignant screech.

“Hey! Respect the wildlife!” Tony cried. He was just teasing, of course, but he immediately braced himself for Loki’s panicked response to his raised tone. His heart sank automatically.

But instead, Loki laughed. He laughed loudly and freely, with his eyes closed and something like happiness in his voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww kind of a nice ending I think? For once?  
> Thanks for reading, um I love you all very much and have a lovely day! *Hugs you consensually*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's like fluff, magic theory, Tony and Loki's #adorablebanter, and depression all mixed into a really weird cocktail? (Hopefully a good cocktail?)  
> Thanks for your comments and kudos! I love all of youuu! (^o^)/  
> And thank to DocWordsmith for beta reading ofc :)  
> Enjoy the ANGST!!!

“Where are you going?”

“To get new clothes. Did you think I was going to walk around smelling like dead fish all day?” Loki asked, taking another step towards the hallway.

They were in the kitchen, because Stark had said that he needed a drink. He had poured one for Loki, and they drank together even though it wasn’t even twelve yet.

“Oh. Okay,” Stark said.

Loki walked back to his room. And he took in, once again, the strangeness of having a bed, clothes, a shower and a toothbrush. Brushing his teeth had been even stranger than the five minutes he had spent in the bed, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling before finally giving up and going to sleep in the corner.

He changed his clothes, and went to examine himself in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes. He was grateful to Stark for pretending not to notice. And his hair, despite the shower he had taken yesterday, was still limp and lifeless. He lifted up a strand and dropped it. 

Then, in a moment of recklessness, he opened a drawer, took out a pair of scissors, and cut the strand off.

And when he was done, his hair was shorter than the shoulders, shorter even than it had been at Thor’s coronation. He couldn’t remember the last time his hair had been this short. It felt good. It felt new.

It was crooked, of course. It looked awful.

But it felt  _ wonderful _ .

He grimaced as he grabbed all the hair and threw it into the garbage. Then he brushed his teeth again, just because he could. 

When he returned to the kitchen, Stark set his glass down loudly, but Loki didn’t flinch. Stark stared at him, and dropped his jaw open, probably on purpose. “Wow. That is…” he pointed a finger at Loki. “Wow. Did not expect that. S’good though. You look good.”

That moment had the potential to become awkward, so Loki filled it with a, “Thank you,” and spun in a circle so Stark could see the whole thing.

“It’s a little… a little… y’know.,” Stark said, slashed his hand diagonally through the air.

“Crooked?”

“Lil bit.”

“Yes, I know.”

“The prince of Asgard having anything but the latest style in posh royal haircuts? I’m shocked,” Stark said, as he lifted the scotch to his lips, grinning behind the glass.

“I’m meant to be unpredictable,” Loki said. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

They fell into silence after that, as Stark poured Loki more whisky and handed it to him. Loki used the moment to take his magic out of his pocket (yes, it was a ridiculous place to put such a powerful object, but he had gotten sick of carrying it around all the time, and it didn’t have to be in direct contact with his skin in order to grow) and let its power seep into his skin. The only reason he hadn’t let bleed completely into his body was that he didn’t want to accidentally perform a spell in front of Stark, since it would take time to regain his normally perfect control over his  _ seidr. _ But it should be strong enough to allow him to teleport away that night, and he could finally have the feeling of his power rushing through his skin again. 

Tonight couldn’t come quickly enough.

But for now, he leaned his elbows on the counter and spun his glass with his finger. Stark was leaning in the corner of the room, holding his glass precariously in one hand. It was tilted far to the right.

“Don’t spill,” Loki said.

“What?”

Loki pointed at his glass.

Unfortunately, when Stark turned his head to look at his glass, he ended up tilting it even farther to the right, and a few drops of whisky fell to the floor.

“Fuck,” Stark said.

Loki took a sip from his own glass. “You are so clumsy, Stark.”

Stark sighed dramatically. Instead of cleaning up the mess, he just rubbed his shoe over it, spreading it out until it wasn’t so noticeable.

Loki was about to comment on that, when Stark gasped loudly, snapping his head up, his eyes meeting Loki’s. Loki raised both eyebrows, widening his eyes. “What is it?”

“Have you ever played Uno?”

“Gods, where did that come from?”

“My brilliant mind.”

They played Uno. It was… interesting. Loki kept asking what the winner got, and Stark said that they got the satisfaction of winning, which made no sense. But it was enjoyable, although he enjoyed watching Stark’s facial reactions every time Loki played a card more than he enjoyed the actual game. And as long as he ignored the fact that he was most likely playing cards either with a Chitauri or a man who probably had a long list of deranged ways to abuse him tucked away in a drawer somewhere.

After that, Stark introduced him to video games. Then he forced Loki to sit through episodes of some of his favorite TV shows. They watched a movie called Harry Potter, and Loki had a wonderful time ridiculing the pitiful lack of understanding of magic. 

“Then explain it to me,” Stark said, pausing the movie halfway through. “Explain it. All of it. I want to know.” His eyes were gleaming with curiosity. He was practically quivering with it.

Loki appreciated that. Regardless of whatever Stark was planning, he appreciated it.

"Magic is not a tool to be channeled through a wand or a magic word," he began, settling back against the couch cushions. "Some have compared it to a horse. It can be used as a tool, and yet has a mind of its own, and the ability to buck off its rider. But this analogy is incorrect." He licked his lips. "Because horses do not think, do not feel as people do. Magic does."

"What do you..."

Loki held up a finger. "Do not interrupt me." He paused, wondering how to explain this to a mortal who had never felt magic rushing beneath his skin before. It would be like trying to describe colors to a blind man.

"Temperature," he said. Stark raised an eyebrow. "Temperature. It is intangible - you cannot lift it, cannot twist it, pull it, wring it out. And yet you can feel it sitting on your skin. Feel it weighing down your body. Magic is like that, but it is not warm or cold. It is..." he licked his lips again, and flexed his fingers. "It is the rush. And the speed, and the sensation of air hurtling past your face even though you are standing still. And it is ever-present, flowing past everything else, like echolocation, almost. A better way of seeing. Feeling. Being." His voice rose as he became more excited, gesturing wildly. "It is an extension of myself. A part of me."

"It thinks and feels like you do?"

"When I am hurt, my magic hurts alongside me. When I am happy, my magic laughs with me. When I am at the peak of physical and mental ability, it can grow, leaping ever outwards, allowing me to reach farther than ever before. And when I am not, it withers, curling in on itself, as if it is sick." Loki smiled crookedly. "This is the disadvantage of being a skilled mage. Others, like Thor, do not suffer so deeply when their magic is injured in some way. For me, a magical wound is more deadly than a physical one. But I have told you this before."

"Yeah. It still weirds me out though."

"I pity you and your limited mortal understanding."

"You're the one who's never seen any decent movies before. I'd call that a pretty limited understanding."

"Mmm. Then go on and expand my knowledge of your ridiculous Midgardian pop culture,” Loki said - more because Stark had been distracted from him by the movies and they were a good way to mindlessly pass the time until later that night, when Loki could escape.

"Will do."

They watched the second Harry Potter movie. And, while Stark asked more questions about magic and Loki answered them as thoroughly as possible, he never mentioned how when a powerful mage was dying of a magical - or physical - injury, his magic could leave his body entirely, turning into something that resembled a glowing rock. Taking the mage’s injury away within itself as a last, desperate attempt to keep them alive.

It was rare. Very rare. And he had been surprised when it had happened, for it meant that yes, he had been about to die.

But the strangest thing was that it had happened before he fell into the hands of Thanos.

It had happened just after the failed invasion of New York.

And Odin had seen, had taken his seidr from him without asking. Without wondering why Loki had been dying, when he had been leading that army of Chitauri.

Not that it would have mattered if he had asked Loki.

Because Loki didn't know either.

He lost focus on the movie, and when Stark paused it halfway through and asked him if he was liking this one any better, he could only answer with a noncommittal grunt.

"Well, if you don't wanna watch a movie, what do you want to do?" Stark checked his watch. "It's... ah... ooh! Dinnertime."

"Do you do anything but eat?"

“Yes,” Stark said. “I drink.”

Loki didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or laugh.

(He laughed.)

()()()

Stark brought them food from a place called, "McDonald's.” He ate two full burgers, and Loki nibbled at a French fry, as they sat side-by-side with their feet in the water.

The sun freefell into the horizon. It disappeared over the other side, into that dark void. But its light remained, turning the clouds purple and the sky a brilliant explosion of red and orange and green.

Loki was aware that his magic had grown substantially during that day - probably because, this time, he wasn't lying on the dirt in a forest, bleeding all over with his back on fire and his chest feeling like a dagger was sticking out of it. No, this time, his injuries hardly even hurt, and he wasn't hungry, or even very tired.

If he had wanted to, he could have teleported away then and there.

But he didn't.

And he wasn't sure why. He had always been better off on his own. And he wasn't a fool - he knew that in the morning, he would forget again. Would panic again. And he didn't want anyone else to witness that. His humiliation. Stark had already seen enough.

And Stark was probably planning to hurt him. Or he was a Chitauri, or even Thanos, and was going to grab Loki’s shoulders and force him to his knees.

Yes, he would be better off on his own.

But he stayed, as Stark pointed at the sunset, and recounted a time spent in Italy where the sky had turned a dazzling, yet frightening, blood red. He stayed, as a seagull landed on the beach and they both laughed.

He stayed, when a fish jumped out of the water and Stark grabbed his arm, to make sure that he saw. He stayed, even when he flinched accidentally, and jerked away, because Stark's fingers had turned to the talons of a Chitauri. Stark apologized and helped him to calm down and it was humiliating.

But he stayed anyway.

"I'm going to bed now," Stark said. "It's almost midnight. You coming?"

"I'll be just a second," Loki said.

"Okay."

It was remarkable that Stark trusted him enough to leave him outside by himself, even though his AI was surely watching him. Remarkable. And foolish.

Because as soon as Stark had gone, Loki stood up, took his seidr out of his pocket and sighed as its power seeped into his skin. He closed his eyes, about to step into that void between worlds.

And paused.

He bent down and wrote in the sand with his finger.  _ Thank you.  _ There could be no harm in it, after all. 

Then he straightened. Took one last look at the water.

He stepped forward into darkness. And his magic caught him up in those shadows, wrapped around him like a blanket, and carried him away.

()()()

He couldn't go far. But he could reach the mainland, and when he emerged from the peaceful dark of the winding branches of Yggdrasil, he stepped out into darkness, and bright lights on the corners of his vision. All blurred and hazy and moving too fast. People rushing by. 

No.

Not people.

The Chitauri. They were everywhere, walking past him, talking and shouting and hissing. Loki backed up and stumbled as he tripped over the place where the sidewalk met grass. He fell heavily on his shoulder, and pain spiked through it. So he curled in on himself, whimpering and covering his head with his arms.

Loki went rigid, bracing for a blow. 

“Is he okay? Oh my god. Sir? Sir! Are you okay?”

A question.

He had to answer. Had to answer. But this didn’t make any sense.

Thanos had never asked him if he was okay.

Loki opened his eyes to see a woman, a Midgardian woman, leaning over him, gripping the strap of her purse. Behind her were more Midgardians, walking on the street or the sidewalk, some of them staring at him. There were no Chitauri.

Idiot.

Idiot.

There were no Chitauri.

Why couldn’t he see what was right in front of his face? Why did he keep  _ doing _ this? He couldn’t even see properly. Couldn’t even last ten minutes without turning into a pathetic, crying mess. 

He didn’t use to be like this.

This was Thanos’ fault.

Loki held on tightly to his anger. His eyes must have shown it, and perhaps he had bared his teeth, because the woman leaned away slightly, although she didn’t leave. Loki stood up, tense as a wound up spring, his entire being itching to kill something. Hurt something.

He could hurt her.

But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would save that for Thanos. 

So he backed away a step, into the embrace of his  _ seidr _ , into the darkness of the void, and out onto a different beach. He glared when he stumbled, tired from even that short distance. 

But he was alone here.

He breathed sharply, looking for something to take out his anger on.

_ How dare Thanos do this to him? _

_ How dare he? _

_ And why did this have to happen? Once Loki escaped, wasn’t he supposed to be free? And yet he still kept seeing them, everywhere, even his own eyes deceiving him, his own mind… _

_ Why did he have to be so goddamn  _ stupid _? _

Loki wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, digging his fingers into his sides. 

Stupid.

He was so stupid.

And he tore at the bandaid on his chest, throwing it to the sand. He lifted his neckline and stared down at the word. Whore. Whore. Pounding in his head.

He could smell it - the acrid smell of flesh burning. Cooking meat. 

It had made his mouth water.

It had made his  _ mouth water. _

Loki raised his hand, and pure energy exploded a ridge of sand, making it fly up in a spray like sea foam. He breathed sharply when it exhausted him further, but he didn’t stop, screaming as he lashed out at the empty beach.

His voice became raw and ragged, like it did when he was screaming in the throne room, screaming beneath their fists or the whip or Thanos’ heavy body. Loki closed his mouth, holding back the screams and the sobs that rose up in his throat like wild waves of water. They got through anyway - in the form of the tears that welled up in his eyes or the red crescent moons that were carved into his hands, where his nails dug into his skin.

Loki fell to his knees in the sand, too tired to stand upright. 

But his magic exploded outwards, fueled by his rage. It exploded, and burned along Loki’s skin, and all around him the sand flew upwards, turning into a cloud that whirled around him and hid the stars, smothering him in darkness and a too-small space.

He started to panic.

_ Of course he did. _

Everything made him panic. The sand made him panic and the people made him panic and waking up in the morning and fast movement and loud noises and touch and  _ everything _ made him panic. 

He used to be so strong.

Now he was so  _ disgustingly weak. _

And he couldn’t slow down his breathing. Couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything right. Too stupid to remember that it was just sand, it wasn’t going to grab him. Just sand burning his eyes, not the smoke from the metal that was  _ too close _ , burning  _ so much _ , and the horrible, sickening dread that was like a tangible thing, stuck in his throat.

Loki caught threads of his  _ seidr _ in his fingers and lashed out with them, viciously, hurling the sand out of the sky.

And then he clawed at the word on his chest, nails ripping in too deep because no matter what he did to himself, it wouldn’t hurt as much as what Thanos was done, and he didn’t even remember what it was like to think that getting scratched actually hurt.

“Get  _ out!” _ he screamed, voice cracking, but it wasn’t loud enough to drive away the pounding in his head. 

He reached out for his  _ seidr _ and it reached just as eagerly for his hand. It snapped up into the sky like a snake, hissing at him, and he ripped his shirt away to give it better access. 

But it looked like a whip.

And he was panicking again. Burying his face in his arms, biting back any sound but panicking, panicking, unable to breathe. And there was no one there to help him. No one to tell him to match their breathing. To remind him that everything was all right.

No one. He was alone.

_ But it was supposed to be better this way! _

Loki curled up there on the beach, and shivered as his magic seeped back into his skin. He was exhausted. He hurt. And when he woke up, he wouldn’t remember why he was here.

A roar came from behind him. The stilted, warped roar of a helicopter’s blades sawing through the air, slowing down. Loki flinched and sat up and froze, crouching like an animal poised to spring. Another helicopter landed beside it. And another. He was surrounded. He couldn’t breathe.

And agents poured out of their doors, turning and pointing guns at him.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” someone said. It was Nick Fury, jumping out of the helicopter and spinning to face him, a handgun in his hand and his eyes devoid of any emotion. “Must be Christmas.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun Dun DUNN.  
> oh noooo what's going to happen ahh  
> (jk I'm sure you all can guess what's gonna happen :p)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so about that megalomaniacal cliffhanger from the last chapter… well I’m not sorry and I wholeheartedly enjoyed reading all of your frustrated comments. But hopefully having new chapter will take the edge off of your desire to kill me?  
> And you may have to get used to it because... there are a few more cliffhangers in store. Just sayin.  
> Now, let us see what happens to our poor Loki... I know y'all have been itching to find out!

Tony only saw the helicopter because he was sitting on the beach, cursing at the water and hurling rocks into it. He paced along the sandbar, ranting to the air. He left footprints in the sand, everywhere except for the place where Loki had written  
__  
“Thank you.”  


He didn’t know what to think.

And it didn’t matter, because he saw the helicopter, and he didn’t really have a choice then, did he? SHIELD must have come for Loki. And Tony had to at least be there. He had to at least see what happened.

He couldn’t sit here in this stupid shack being useless.

There were hundreds of reasons why Loki could have left. And sure, some of them were malicious. He could have been tricking Tony. Lying. He had certainly lied about not having his magic, and he could have done that for a multitude of despicable reasons.

Or he might not have.

Maybe he was just _scared_.

So he put on his suit and took off across the lake, brushing the water with the tips of his fingers, leaving a trail of waves, fire, and smoke. 

He reached the mainland in less than twenty seconds, and didn’t slow down as he cut through the beachside city, soaring over the busy streets and crowded fast food places. It was two in the morning. He had been downstairs in the kitchen at 1:45, drinking for about ten minutes before going to check on Loki. He had scanned the entire sandbar at least five times before finally accepting that he was gone.

His first instinct was to be angry.

But he shouldn’t be. 

Loki had been tortured.

Loki had been tortured and he felt like he couldn’t trust anyone. And, if Tony was in his place, wouldn’t he feel safer being alone? Even if it meant lying to get there?

He couldn’t be thinking rationally. Tony hadn’t been when he got home.

()()()

The helicopters were already leaving when Tony arrived. Three of them. He ducked behind a tree (ridiculous, yeah, but it seemed to work, because no one shot at him) and followed at a distance. Then he gave up following at a distance because he wanted to be where the action was. (Damn his short attention span.)

He flew up next to the middle helicopter and looked in the window. No Loki. But they definitely noticed him, because everyone started staring at him - looking ridiculous with their dark sunglasses and their jaws dropped open - but hey, it was a reasonable reaction. He could imagine that the sight of a metal face in the window would be a bit disturbing.

He saluted them and flew to the next helicopter.

Bingo.

There he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor with murder in his eyes. His eyes widened when he saw Tony. Tony grinned at him, forgetting that he was wearing a helmet. God, he was a dumbass sometimes. 

He knocked on the window.

Fury swiveled in his chair to glare at him, his head resting almost delicately on his fist. There were five SHIELD agents and one angry god in the helicopter. 

Oh, and one of the agents had a black eye. Another was cradling his right arm. A third was slumped in the corner, barely breathing, next to a puddle of blood.

Damn.

Fury himself seemed unscathed… until he turned his head and Tony saw the long, winding gash that crossed his face, almost perfectly parallel to the one that cut beneath the eye patch.

So Loki definitely hadn’t been playing around.

Fury gestured to another agent, who pressed a button on the ceiling. The helicopter’s door slid open, and Tony stepped inside with as much casualness as he could muster, but going from flying to walking on solid ground was difficult and he tripped a bit, and had to grab the wall to steady himself.

Yeah, Loki was right. He was clumsy. And if he ever got the chance, Tony would be sure to tell him over a meal straight off of Taco Bell’s breakfast menu.

The door closed, and Tony lowered his face plate. “Hello. I’m here. What were your other two wishes?”

Tony swore that he saw Loki smirk at his joke.

“Why the hell are you here, Stark?” Fury asked, standing up. He didn’t even sway with the motion of the helicopter. In contrast, Tony almost fell every time he let go of the wall. 

Tony glanced at Loki. 

“I was in the area,” Tony said. “And I saw you. Well, more accurately, Jarvis saw you. However, he doesn’t have a body, so I had to show up on his behalf. Thought we could hang out. How are things? And why is he here?” he asked, pointing at Loki.

“He was on a beach,” Fury said. “We’ve been trying to track him ever since he broke out of his cell, but the damn machine wasn’t working. Or else, he was smart and wasn’t using his magic. But today, there was a sudden spike in energy. He led us right to him. Like an idiot.” Fury’s one eye was full of contempt.

“Now, now. No need for insults. Let’s all play nice,” Tony said. He was watching Loki closely, searching for some sign. Maybe Loki would try to communicate with him. “What kind of energy?”

“Magical energy,” Fury said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Well, yeah, Tony had known that. And he was still pissed that Loki had lied to him.

“As if it makes a difference,” Loki practically spat, his eyes flashing. He was looking at Fury. “You know nothing.”

“I think I know enough,” Fury said.

Loki laughed. But it was cold. Humorless. “Mortals. Thinking you know everything, so you never have to _listen_!” his anger didn’t show itself obviously - in the slamming of a fist or the raising of his voice. But Tony didn’t have to look much deeper to see that his body was tense, wound up. If he could, he would have killed everyone in that helicopter.

But Tony did have to look deep to see the panic that was buried beneath the surface. His eyes darted to the windows and back again. His breathing was just the smallest bit off, his voice the smallest bit strained.

Loki had lied. And, well, there was the whole murder thing. It was dangerous to trust him.

But Tony had always been known for making reckless decisions.

“All right,” Tony said. “Stop the fucking helicopter. We’re going down for a pit stop.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Fury demanded, starting forward when Tony grabbed the pilot’s shoulder, pinning him to his seat with one hand and using his other to make the helicopter begin flying downwards.

Instantly, two guns were pointed at Tony’s face. One of them was Fury’s. The other three agents weren’t in any condition to be holding weapons. All in all, it wasn’t the most intimidating sight.

He lifted the face plate. “Uh uh uh, director,” he said, waving his finger back and forth. “I think you’re forgetting which of us is wearing armor. I could kill you in a heartbeat,” he warned, lifting his hand, pointing the repulsor at Fury’s head. 

“You wouldn’t,” Fury said.

“Do you want to bet on that?”

The helicopter went quiet.

“I wanted to believe the best in you, Stark. I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt, assume that he was controlling you or somethin’. But now… I will make you public enemy number _one_. You will lose your company, your money, and your friends,” Fury said, continuing to step towards Tony, with his handgun pointed uselessly at his head. “Unless you step away from the controls, and leave this helicopter.”

Tony doubted that Fury could actually do it.

But he would certainly try.

So Tony glanced at Loki. Loki had already been watching him, eyes unreadable. “Bring him over to me,” Tony said, holding out his hand as if waiting for Fury to put a wad of cash in it. He was unwilling to leave his spot near the front of the helicopter. “And don’t hurt him, you monsters.”

Fury’s eyes were burning the side of Tony’s head, but he didn’t turn to look. “Fine,” Fury said. “Fine. I see you’ve made your choice. You. Do as the man says.”

A SHIELD agent grabbed Loki by the arm, and Tony didn’t miss his flinch. She dragged Loki over to Tony and shoved him, making him stumble and crash into Tony’s side.

“God, you’re heavy,” Tony muttered, putting a hand on his shoulder to support him.

Loki opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Apparently I’m helping you. And only God knows why I keep doing that. Although, it looks like you did a number on them yourself,” Tony said.

Loki glanced down at the unconscious agent on the floor. “They attacked me first.”

Tony patted Loki on the shoulder. “We’re going to have a nice, long chat about this later. Once I park this thing, and let all these agents out at their stop. Which happens to be...” he looked away from Loki, focusing on flying. They were nearing another beach. It didn’t have a helipad, but since when had a lack of an empty space ever stopped him from parking? “That beach in the middle of nowhere.”

He landed the thing halfway in the water, shrugged, and opened the doors. “Everybody out!” he yelled, waving his arms. “If you’re a SHIELD creep, get out of the helicopter!”

“You’re making a big mistake, Stark,” Fury said, before walking out the join the rest of his creep-squad.

Probably, yeah.

He did that a lot.

“I just did a crazy, stupid thing,” he said, as they lifted into the air, leaving Fury and his agents behind on the beach. “So please tell me that you ran off for some perfectly innocent reason and not because you’re trying to trick me somehow.”

Loki was silent.

“Hey, this is kind of important. Because I could still dump you in the ocean if I so chose. Why’d you leave? I’m putting a lot on the line for this, you know, and I’d like to know that my efforts are warranted.”

Loki stepped away from him. “You didn’t have to come help me, Stark. You chose this! It’s your own damn fault.”

“What is?”

“Fury said you’ll lose your money, your company…”

Tony scoffed. “He can’t do that.”

“Your friends?”

“Sure. Maybe. But why are you so worried about it?”

Loki stared at him. “I don’t… no, no, why are you here? I don’t understand.”

“Human decency. I keep telling you.”

“That’s not it!” Loki cried, his voice very nearly breaking. 

Tony glanced at him. He set the helicopter for autopilot and walked towards Loki, who was gripping the copilot’s seat very tightly. His shirt was torn in the front, but he had pulled it up to hide his chest. That didn’t mean that Tony couldn’t see the blood that had stained the front of his shirt. “What do you mean?”

Loki’s eyes darted around as if he was searching for an answer. “I… I have done nothing but hurt you. I attacked your city. You can’t just _forget_ that. And I lied! I told you that my magic was gone. I used it to escape! Why would you trust me? It makes no sense!”

Tony was caught off guard by Loki’s reasoning. “Uhh…” he said, temporarily forgetting why he had stepped into the helicopter in the first place. But it didn’t take long to remember. “Loki. Look. Yeah, if you’re tricking me, I’m gonna be pissed. But the thing is, if I was in your place, I could see myself doing the exact same thing. Running off like that. You were scared. Am I right?” _And I saw your injuries. I don’t think I could live with myself if I let SHIELD torture and kill you after I saw what was burned into your chest._

It was Loki’s turn to look caught off guard. He stared at Tony with his mouth open for a few moments, before licking his lips and saying, “Staying alive is easier to do alone.”

Tony had to pause to allow Loki’s words to sink in. “You thought I would hurt you. You still thought that I was going to hurt you.”

Loki swallowed. “No. I… No. No.”

Tony was not convinced. “You sure?”

Loki looked away.

“We just need to set some ground rules. As long as you’re sleeping in my house, eating my food, you’ll follow them, okay?”

“You’re going to let me stay?” Loki asked. He sounded suspicious.

“I…” Tony licked his lips. “I think so. Yes, I think I am. And as for the rules: will you follow them?”

“Depends on what they are,” Loki said. “I don’t want to end up juggling burritos for your entertainment.”

Tony raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You are. So annoying. Anyway. Yes. Rule one of… staying at my place. We don’t hurt each other. As long as you are under my roof, I _won’t hurt you_ . If you leave and start murdering or hurting innocent people, I’ll kill you. If _I_ attack you, feel free to hurt me in self-defense. And vice versa. But otherwise, I don’t hurt you, you don’t hurt me. Okay?”

Tony looked at Loki. He had frozen in place, hardly moving a muscle, staring at him. He was blinking rapidly. Hesitating. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, his eyes boring holes into Tony’s. Searching him, perhaps? Did Loki think that Tony wasn’t going to follow his rule?

“Okay,” Loki said, barely above a whisper.

Tony smiled at him. “Okay. Rule two. If you ever feel uncomfortable with _anything_ , whether it’s something I did that’s bringing up bad memories, or something in the house, or the food, or whatever, just say… um…” he cast around in his mind, trying to think of a word. “Red.” Simple. “Just say ‘red’. If anything wrong _at all_ , say it. If it’s me that’s the problem, I’ll back off. If it’s something else, I’ll throw it in the trash. Okay?”

“Will you say it if you need to?” Loki asked.

Tony hadn’t expected that. “Um. Yeah. Yes, I will. If I need to.”

Loki nodded. “Then… that’s okay.”

Weird that Loki would take that into consideration.

But then, everything about Loki in general was just really, really weird.

“Third,” Tony said. “We’re gonna talk. Whether you like it or not. And trust me, I don’t like it either, but it has to happen if we’re gonna get anywhere. So if I ever think that we need to talk, we’re gonna sit the fuck down and _talk_.”

He swallowed.

“And fourth, if you’re gonna leave, please tell me first.”

Loki waited a long moment before slowly nodding. “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

“Right,” Tony said. “Well, then I’m announcing our first little talk, right now. What’s the deal with your magic? How did you hide it from SHIELD? And why did you keep pretending that you didn’t have it?”

Loki shifted, perhaps uncomfortably, staring out the window. His fingers flexed. “It was the Tiger Eye. I mean… there was no Tiger Eye. My magic was dying. It turned into that to protect itself.”

“It can do that?”

Loki glanced back at him sharply. “Evidently, yes.” He took a deep breath. “SHIELD did not sense it because it was too weak. And then you took it, and I had to pretend it was a healing stone so you would give it to me.”

Oh. That made sense. 

“The stone is gone now. My magic is a part of me once again. I had to let it back in, so that SHIELD couldn’t take it. But it… I didn’t actually mean to do this,” he said, gesturing at the blood on the floor. “It’s not very controlled right now. I will try my best, but if I get angry, I might accidentally hurt you,” his voice got quiet. 

Tony raised his arms. “Good thing I’m still wearing my suit.”

“My _seidr_ can easily bend your flimsy Midgardian metal.”

“Oh-ho-ho! I see how it is.” Tony said. “I’ll have you know that _this_ ,” he raised his arms again, gesturing down at the suit he was wearing. “Is indestructible.”

Loki grinned. “Are you forgetting which one of us got thrown out the window?”

Tony mock-glared at him, pointing a finger at his face. “I offered you a drink. I was being _nice_. That was uncalled for.”

“At least you got the chance to get out of that awful room. Terrible choice in furniture. So gaudy. Hideous blue.” Loki said, finally letting go of the armrest. He slumped down into the co-pilot’s seat.

“Oh, do enlighten me. It’s not as if all you ever wear is black and green, Mr. Dark and Brooding.”

Loki grinned, and swiveled his chair to face Tony. Tony did likewise, and his foot ended up touching Loki’s, which he was hyper-aware of for some reason. He tried not to look. “Better than red and gold,” Loki said.

“Touche.”

About twenty minutes (full of more back-and-forth banter) passed, before Tony found a place to land, on a random beach. There wasn’t a safe house here, he just needed a spot to drop off the helicopter. Unfortunately, that meant that they would need another way to get to the closest safe house, which was probably in Quebec. He had a secluded mansion near Montreal. 

“Right,” he said, after he had crash-landed the thing. Tony went into the back, looking for stuff to steal, but he just found a bunch of guns. Then they got out, and Tony waved away the smoke that was curling up in front of his face. “Uh… just wait a second.” He took out his phone and called Jarvis.

“Heyyyy, buddy. Any plans on getting us to Montreal?”

There was a beat of silence. 

**I can book you two a flight in Minneapolis. Flight time will be approximately 2 hours, 45 minutes. The next plane leaves at six in the morning.**

“What time is it now?”

**It is now one in the morning, sir.**

“Book that flight.” Tony said. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, and glanced at Loki, who was looking up at the smoke. “We’re going to Minneapolis,” Tony announced. 

Loki turned around. “I don’t know where that is, but it sounds good to me.”

The beach was rocky, and Tony was feeling reckless, so he put his hand on Loki’s arm to help him. Then it was quiet, aside from the soft _whrr_ as Tony walked, and the cry of a seagull circling overhead, diving down beneath the softly lapping waves. 

They walked over a railroad line, and through some tall grass. There was a small street, lined with shops, beyond it. One of them was an ice cream shop.

Perhaps this could be a gesture of good will, to prove that Tony really didn’t intend to hurt him?

Tony glanced at it. Then at Loki. Then back at the shop. “I mean… it’s called The Magic Slab. Basically Magic Stab. We have to go in.” Recklessly, he stepped out of his suit and shoved it down into the tall grass.

“Eating Midgardian dessert when we could be getting to Minneapolis to make sure that we don’t miss our flight? Wonderful idea,” Loki said dryly. Then again, he said everything dryly. And then again again, it didn’t sound like he was complaining.

Loki had never had ice cream before - which was an _atrocity_ \- so Tony helped him out by making him get Moose Tracks, in a waffle cone. Tony bought chocolate, and when they left the shop they were confronted by a taxi. The driver was waiting with his elbow out the window, eyes glued to his phone.

Tony called Jarvis again. “Tell me you didn’t.”

**The taxi is for you, sir.**

“If you had a body, I would kiss you!” Tony cried.

Loki snorted. The driver glanced at them weirdly.

Loki spent the taxi ride making fun of every aspect of Minnesota, and Tony played along. The ride was several hours long, but, miraculously, it wasn’t even boring. When they finished their ice cream cones, they both threw the wrappers out the windows and laughed about it. Then Tony let Loki try on his glasses - it was not the best look, but Loki still spent several long moments studying himself in the selfie camera on Tony’s phone. Their feet were touching again, and sometimes their knees, too. Loki fell asleep for a while, and his shoulder rested against Tony’s.

Weird, weird, weird.

But… nice.

Nice.

And Tony didn’t regret it. He would rather hang out with Loki than with SHIELD. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he called them monsters. And the other Avengers were part of the problem. So he would rather be with Loki than with them.

Which was _so weird._

But no, he didn’t regret it.

And Loki seemed to be having a wonderful time. When they got to the airport, he stared at the airplanes with awe, and when he walked past the place where people picked up their luggage, he went over and freaked out (in a good way) about the conveyor belts. Oh, and besides that he was also super helpful, turning them both invsible so they could sneak past security. Tony warned him to be careful, but apparently it was such an easy spell that SHIELD couldn't track it.

As the airport started to grow more crowded, however, he seemed to get more on edge. Tapping his foot, watching the people nervously, his eyes darting around, arms wrapped tightly over his chest in an “X”, crossing right over the place where that word was. Tony realized that there was still blood leaking through his shirt.

They sat down near the terminal - ten minutes until their flight boarded - but when someone sat next to Loki, he gripped the armrest very tightly, leaning towards Tony. People were all around them, talking loudly and laughing.

“Red,” Loki whispered. 

Tony nodded, and they stood up. He scanned the area for a place to go. It wasn’t a good idea to go outside, because they wouldn’t have time to get to the door and back before their plane arrived. But Tony took Loki to a less crowded spot near a window, behind a tall, plastic potted plant. 

Loki wrapped both arms around himself, leaned his head back against the window and looked up at the ceiling, trying to breathe. Well, that wasn’t gonna work. Tony tapped him on the shoulder. “Breathe with me.”

He put his hands on Loki’s shoulders and breathed, slowly. Loki tried to match it, and eventually he did. He swallowed, and looked at the ground. Tony let go, but didn’t back away. “You okay?”

Loki looked past Tony, at all the people walking past. It was so loud in there. The rumble of voices, the pounding of footsteps. 

Loki nodded. Tony was not convinced.

“Do you wanna stay here?” he asked.

Loki nodded again. He closed his eyes. And Tony could see his lips moving, but no sound came out, and Tony couldn’t make out the words.

Several minutes passed. Over the microphone, someone announced that their flight was boarding. But Tony and Loki stayed there until most of the crowd had already disappeared into the terminal. Then Tony said, “We should probably go.”

Loki opened his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You’re good,” Tony said.

It was Loki’s turn to look unconvinced.

They walked onto the airplane, and took seats next to each other near the back. When asked, Loki said that he would rather have the window seat. 

And it was weird to sit so close to the guy who had chucked him out of a window. Weird to be on an _airplane_ with him. It should feel wrong. Tony should still hate him.

But it didn’t feel wrong.

And he didn’t hate him.

Loki was hugging himself, closing his eyes again, shrinking into the corner. And how could Tony hate someone who looked like that? How could he do anything but help them? Even if they lied, even if they ran away?

“Hey. Hey, buddy. There’s a beautiful view out the window. Just look out the window,” Tony said, because he thought it might help. Loki didn’t seem to hear him, so Tony tapped him on the shoulder.

Bad idea.

He flinched horribly, his eyes snapping open. “I’m sorry!” he cried, pressing himself into the corner where his seat met the side of the plane. “I’m sorry. _Fyrirgefðu.”_

“Peanuts?” the flight attendant asked. 

Tony turned around and glared at her. “Go the fuck away.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, before “Hmph!”-ing, turning on her heel, and stalking off.

Tony looked back at Loki, who was still pressing himself into the corner. God, did he want to murder whoever had done this to him.

And he didn’t want to know how many times Loki had been sitting in the corner, shaking and begging like he was now - “Please, _please_. I can’t.” - and no one had cared, no one had listened. How many times had his fear of crowds been perfectly reasonable? How many times had he pleaded for them not to hurt him, to listen when he said that he was sorry, but they just hadn’t cared?. 

They had hurt Loki, hurt the guy who had eaten ice cream and tried on Tony’s glasses and who laughed at all his jokes. They had beat all that laughter out of him, time and time again, beaten him into a huddled mess in the corner. They had beaten it into his head, so that even once he was free of them, he still thought that they were going to come back and find him.

Of course he had been scared. Of course he had run away.

 _Of course_ Tony was going to stay with him, and help him. And guess what, SHIELD? He didn’t think he would ever regret it.

“Hey, it’s me, Tony. You’re on a plane. And you’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

In only a few minutes, his breathing had calmed down, and when he looked at Tony again, there was recognition in his eyes.

“I wasn’t kidding about the view,” Tony said, pretending that nothing had happened. “It’s beautiful.”

Loki turned to see what had caught his attention. Tony saw a small smile cross his face when he saw the sun cutting a blinding trail across the lake, and the jagged line of the shore stumbling away into the water. The sky was a light pink, the clouds turned red. Sunrise.

“Didn’t even notice that we didn’t sleep last night,” Tony said. “Are you tired?”

Loki shook his head.

“Makes sense. You slept like a baby in the taxi. Anyway, I think I’m gonna catch a few Z’s. Unless you want me to stay awake,” Tony said, cautiously, watching Loki carefully. “I will. It’s not a problem.”

Loki looked at him. “No. Sleep if you’re tired.”

“Okay,” Tony said. He took off his jacket and shoved it against the headrest, using it as a pillow. “G’night, Loki,” he said, as the sun rose over the water.

“Good night,” Loki said.

()()()

When Tony woke up, his head was on Loki’s shoulder. He could hear Loki’s slow, even breathing, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Loki’s hair tickled his forehead. Tony’s hand was squished in between their knees.

He was caught between the urge to smile and the urge to pull away.

He didn’t want to wake Loki up, and besides, this was more comfortable than sitting by himself in the corner, so he decided to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are just so stubborn - they refuse to stop being adorable! And royally fucked up (is that how you say it?) of course.  
> Oh, and my beta reader asked me why the ice cream shop is open in the middle of the night, and my answer is… deal with it. Wait no, that's not what I meant. I meant... um... Minnesota is a funky place. (I’ve actually never been there lol. I have no idea why I decided to have them go there other than that it just popped into my head). And also, another thing about the ice cream shop - I got the name off of a list of “good ice cream shop names” or something like that, and the first thing that popped into my head when I saw it was “Magic Stab” and I immediately burst out laughing so here you go.  
> Little hint about the next chapter - it’s an angst-fest! But there’s also a Big Important FrostIron Moment. I’ll leave you to speculate what that may be ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna give my totally well-thought out and totally non-improvised response to a few plot-holes caught by some readers in the last chapter.  
> -  
> Why did Loki not teleport before the agents caught him? - Poor guy exhausted himself during his breakdown on the beach lol.  
> -  
> Um didn’t they have to show ID at the airport? Come on, author, you’re so silly! This was TOTALLY obvious how’d you miss it? - okay well firstly shut up and secondly UM I changed it so Loki turned them invisible lol. I think I should get an A+ for my epic planning skills.  
> -  
> Whereeeee the hell did Tony put his suit? Cuz he would want to have one, you know. - UMM well since they were invisible he just folded it up into a suitcase and brought it as a carry-on I don’t fucking know. I’m too lazy to change it so just be aware that that’s totally what happened.  
> -  
> Anyway, PAIN, PAIN, ANGST SADNESS, here ya go, *chucks chapter at your face* ENJOY IT!  
> (I apologize for the caps lock)

They landed in Montreal at eight. Loki hadn’t managed to get to sleep, although he had certainly tried. And when Stark’s head had fallen onto his shoulder, Loki had remained perfectly still to allow him to get some rest. When Stark woke up, Loki pretended to be asleep. It was easier.

He suspected that neither of them fell back asleep after that. But both pretended to.

He breathed in slowly. His mind had been whirling ever since Stark rescued him from the SHIELD helicopter - whirling because if Stark had been planning to hurt him, surely, _surely_ he would have done it then? Surely he would have been angry?

He couldn’t believe that Stark had honestly rescued him just because it was the ‘right thing to do’.

But… Stark hadn’t done anything to disprove his claims. Yet.

_Why?_

He didn’t understand. Maybe he would have understood before Thanos - maybe he was too stupid now to comprehend something that was probably so simple. 

When the plane hit the tarmac, it was with a jolt that made Loki flinch. And before he could collect himself, Stark’s hand was wrapped around his arm. For some reason, Loki didn’t panic when he did that, didn’t even try to pull away.

Loki looked at him. Stark was already looking back.

So no, neither of them had been asleep.

Stark led him quickly through the airport, which Loki was grateful for. There was a car waiting for them, with their luggage already in the trunk. Loki only had one bag, full of all the clothes that Stark had given him, along with the toothbrush, hairbrush, and everything else. All Stark’s. He owned none of it. Deserved none of it. 

Stark, on the other hand, had two suitcases and a duffel bag. When they slid into the car, Loki took off the sunglasses and hat that Stark had given him to wear in the airport. Stark took off his hat, but kept on his sunglasses, even though the sky was cloudy, and there was no point in wearing them.

They drove for two hours, and came upon a ridge where the hills dropped away into a valley, dotted with bushes and trees. There was a sprawling house tucked away in the hills. It was white, and stood out as if it was _trying_ to be noticed.

“You’re sure SHIELD won’t notice the enormous mansion in the middle of the valley?” Loki asked.

Stark paused, probably to roll his eyes, as he pulled his suitcases out of the trunk. “Of course they’ll notice it. They just won’t know that we’re there.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s more glass than walls.”

Stark lowered his glasses to look at him sharply. “Architecture. It’s modern. It’s _cool_. And there are blinds.”

Loki gave a noncommittal grunt. “Cool,” he muttered under his breath, as they trudged up to the front door.

“Jarvis. Open sesame,” Stark said. 

The door swung open, and they entered.

It was small. And dark, until Stark said, “Let there be light,” and flipped a switch, drowning everything in blinding whiteness. “Shit,” he said, squinting. “What kind of bulbs are these? I think I went a little overboard.”

Loki put his sunglasses back on.

And Stark led him on a tour, although it was clear he didn’t know the place very well either, because he got lost several times and had to ask Jarvis for directions. Loki followed him contentedly, listening to him ramble. Loki was too tired to ridicule the safe house at the moment.

He yawned.

“Tired?” Stark asked, turning around. “Well, that’s convenient, because this happens to be your bedroom.” He pushed open a door. “There you go.”

Loki walked inside. It was quite similar to his bedroom at the Minnesota Shack, except smaller. Almost cramped. If it weren’t for the huge glass window set in the far wall, letting in so much light, it might have reminded him of his cell. But, instead, it felt huge, because he could see outside. Past the window, there was a dizzying drop, tumbling away into the rolling valley, the trees, the flowers.

And yes, there were flowers.

Big, red ones.

This didn’t remind him of his cell. This reminded him of his room in Asgard.

“This is…” Loki tried. “This… this is wonderful,” he turned suddenly, and Stark leaned back, amused. “I don’t know how I can repay you for all this. Everything.”

And there was so much that he owed Stark for. Saving him from execution at the hands of SHIELD - twice. Giving him food and clothes and toothpaste and this wonderful room.

“Loki,” Stark said. “You don’t have to repay me. That’s not how this works.”

Lies. Of course that was how it worked. 

“Do you want to sleep?” Stark asked. He was behind Loki, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

Loki nodded. 

Stark smiled. “Okay. Me too. If you need me when you wake up, tell Jarvis to get me. I won’t mind. And if you don’t need me, there’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. You can go anywhere, just don’t leave without telling me first.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Stark waved at him. “Sweet dreams.” And he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Loki didn’t hesitate before grabbing the pillow and blanket from the bed and lying down in the corner of the room. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the bed. “Jarvis?” he asked.

**Yes, Loki?**

“Can you close the blinds, please? And turn off the light.”

Jarvis did. And the room went dark. Loki’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, but he was able to get it under control quickly. He hugged the pillow to his chest, buried his face in it, and fell asleep.

()()()

When he woke up, the cell was unnaturally dark, and he didn’t know why. Usually, at least a bit of light filtered in through the bars from the torch on the opposite wall. And something was wrapped around him. Something tight and hot and suffocating.

Loki fell into panic immediately, clawing at it, but it wouldn’t release its hold. What was it? A Chitauri? But the Chitauri never slept in his cell with him. 

Loki started to hyperventilate, his breaths coming short, not getting enough oxygen in his lungs. It was all he could hear - his own ragged breathing, loud in his ears. He clamped his teeth down on his lip, trying to calm himself. They didn’t like to hear his loud breathing. They said it was annoying. 

A green light erupted out of the darkness. Loki flinched and jerked away, a whimper fighting to escape his throat, until he realized it was coming from him. It was him. It was his _magic_. How had he not felt it? 

And why did he have it?

What was going on?

He wrapped himself in his _seidr_ , holding it close, trying to draw some comfort from having his power so near. 

And he ripped the blanket away, and filled the room with bright green light.

It was not his cell.

It was…

Where was he?

Why was he here?

He must have forgotten again. He was stupid, and he always forgot everything.

Loki crossed his arms tightly, leaned against the wall, raised his eyes to the ceiling and tried to remember. But it was dark, and the wrong memories kept resurfacing. Memories of others, so many others, sweating bodies filling up a room just like this one, all of them grabbing at him and turning him around and tracing their fingers along his skin. The smell of blood. And it all descended into the sound of screaming.

A green flash made a table flip in the air and burst into pieces. He hadn’t even raised his hands. He whimpered and clutched them close to his chest, but everything kept exploding. He didn’t know why. He backed away until his back hit something rigid.

Blinds.

The window shattered.

And the door opened. The light came on, and Stark was standing there - _why_ was Stark standing there? - but Loki knew as soon as he had wondered, knew why Stark was here. This was Thanos. This was a trick. Like with Thor. Stark was going to grab him and force him to his knees.

The door slammed back against the wall, and snapped in half, splintering. 

Stark put his hands up. “Hey. It’s me. Just Tony. I won’t hurt you.”

 _“Lygari,_ ” Loki whispered, hoarsely, in between pants. _“Lygari. Lygari._ You will.”

“No. No, I won’t.” Stark took a step forward. “Can I just…”

“Please,” Loki said. Begging. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He took a step back, towards the broken window.

“No! Stop!” Stark cried, raising his voice. “You’ll fall!”

A jet of green hit Stark in the chest. He threw his arms up and staggered backwards. "Jarvis! Suit! Suit now!" He shouted, voice raspy. And loud. He was angry. He was a Chitauri and he was going to cross the room and grab Loki and push him to the ground and...

Another flash of green hit him in the stomach. Stark flew back, hit the wall, and slumped to the ground. The corner of the door frame exploded. Green sparks burst up from the carpet, sizzling. 

Stark ducked to avoid another blast of green light. Loki wasn’t trying to stop it anymore. Each jet of light felt like an added weight on his chest, dragging him down. Magic wasn’t meant to be used like this. He was exhausting himself. And yet he couldn’t make it stop.

Pieces of metal shot down the hallway, attaching to Stark’s hands, feet, arms, legs, chest. They clanged with the impact, and shifted like scales as they aligned to his body. The face plate was last, snapping down, turning his eyes bright white.

Loki took a step back.

His foot met nothingness.

And his stomach dropped, his heart stopped, as he flailed, trying to grab onto something, but everything was slipping away. The house was gone. There was only rocks, and sky, and clouds and falling.

He was falling.

And Thor was above him, Thor was screaming for him… no, Loki was screaming and Thor was grinning, putting hands on his shoulders, pushing him down…

Then he stopped falling.

Hands, arms, no - a body was wrapped around him, tightly. Loki pushed against it but it was made of metal and he couldn’t break out of its grip.

So he did was he always did. He froze and he closed his eyes and he tried not to breathe, tried not to feel. He bit down on his lip to keep himself from whimpering, begging, screaming, although it never worked. They always wanted him to scream. They never stopped until he screamed.

But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Why? Why did it matter?

He couldn’t remember.

But he was silent as he was flown upwards, back through the shattered window. The metal thing landed gently, lifted him up, supporting his knees with one hand and his back with the other. Loki struggled weakly but he was exhausted and the metal wasn’t going to give. It was hopeless.

So he threw his arms over his head, for no reason other than it felt normal and it felt safe, and let the machine that was hiding the Chitauri disguised as Tony Stark carry him down the hall to a living room. He was deposited carefully on a couch.

The faceplate snapped up. Stark’s face was there, his eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said. He didn’t know if he was speaking English or not. “I’m _sorry_. Please - I’m sorry.”

He backed away to the furthest corner of the couch, and pulled his knees up to his chest, arms still protecting his head, trying to breathe, his eyes never leaving Stark.

“Okay. Okay.” Stark lifted a hand to his face, then lowered it. He looked up at the ceiling, then out the window, then at the ground, then at Loki. “Stay here,” he pointed at Loki. “If you stay here, I won’t hurt you. If you move, I’ll… I’ll…” he hesitated. “I’ll make you regret it.”

Loki swallowed. Shaking.

“Do you understand?” Stark asked.

“Yes,” Loki said.

When Stark returned, it was with a tall glass of water, a bowl of something gray and mushy looking, a tin box of bandages, and a pillow tucked under one arm. He set the water and the bowl down on the floor, put the pillow and box on the couch, and stepped out of his suit. 

“Thank god, you stayed,” he muttered, more to himself than to Loki. 

What was he going to do to him?

When Stark grabbed the water and held it out to him, Loki whimpered, curling in on himself and bracing for a blow. Stark squeezed his eyes shut, breathing slowly. Then he opened his eyes again, and placed the water carefully on the table. “You can have some,” he said. “Drink as much as you want. It’s not… oh, fuck.” He picked up the water again and took a sip. “See? Not poisoned.”

He ate a spoonful of the mushy substance and put that beside the water. “It’s oatmeal. Cinnamon and apple flavor. It’s good.”

Loki didn’t move, his eyes never leaving Stark.

Stark handed him the pillow. “I don’t know if you want this. But it might make you feel better. Um…” 

Loki hugged it to his chest, and Stark smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay. Um… I’m so sorry, I’m not actually going to hurt you, I just didn’t want you to run off and end up hurting yourself more…” he ran a hand down the side of his face, and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked at Loki again, his eyes were shining unnaturally. Watering? “You remember me, right? Tony Stark? You threw me out a window.” He smiled at that, then looked to the side, wiping at his eyes. “And we… we had ice cream. We escaped SHIELD twice!”

“No,” Loki said, in response to the question.

“Yeah, we did. We did all of that,” Stark said. “And we had a great time.” He laughed, but it broke in the middle and died away. He sat down on the very edge of the couch, as far from Loki as possible, covering his face with his hands.

Loki didn’t understand what Thanos’ plan was. Surely he knew that Loki wouldn’t fall for such an obvious lie.

No, it made no sense. 

Which scared him even more.

“It’s okay,” Stark said, softly. “I’ll stay here. I’ll stay here until you remember.”

And he did stay. He stayed and he told Loki stories of screeching seagulls, fortune cookies, an airport, a Tiger Eye. None of it made sense. And Loki wondered how long this would last before Thanos grew bored and decided to end the illusion, to throw him back into his cell.

Eventually Stark stopped talking. He sat there, hands clasped tightly in his lap. He wiped at his eyes again. “Holy shit. I’m a mess,” he said, quietly, to the floor. 

Loki didn’t know how much time had passed, before he finally said, “Moose tracks.”

Stark whirled around. “Yes!” he cried, his voice breaking in the middle. “Yes. Yes. Moose tracks.” He pulled himself up into a crouch, staring at Loki. “You remember. Don’t you?”

Loki panicked at the vague, open-ended question - he didn’t know how to answer - before he remembered that Stark wouldn’t hurt him. He had said as much, time and time again. Had made it a rule. And Loki had believed him. And… he still did. Because - remember? - Stark had rescued him from the helicopter, and hadn’t even hurt him for leaving, even though there was no reason, no reason, and Loki was too stupid to understand. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, honestly. He remembered a few things, but how was he to know if there were others that he was still forgetting? 

“But you remember the ice cream flavor. It’s hilarious, by the way, that that’s the first thing you remember, but still, you _remember._ Right? Right?” Stark sounded so hopeful, so eager.

Loki shook his head, tangling his hand in his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” Stark said. “That’s fine.” 

Slowly, memories drifted back into his mind like feathers. Some he could only grab for, like he was drowning and grabbing desperately for a rope, but they escaped his grasp. Some were clear and focused and stood out brightly. And there were blank spaces, but not enough to keep him from throwing the pillow aside and reaching for Stark’s hand. Just to be certain. Of what, he wasn’t sure.

He held it for only a moment before standing. “I need to go outside,” he said. “I need to. I won’t go far, and I’m not running away, I just need to go outside.”

And once Stark had nodded his head, Loki was fast-walking out the door and down the hill, and there he flung his arms up in the air and screamed and magic exploded outwards like a hurricane, devouring everything in its path, including him. He heard himself screaming, felt his own arms wrapped tightly around his chest, pain burning his skin like fire until it all disappeared and he was staggering backwards. 

His knees hit the ground with a thud.

He stared.

He hadn’t meant to do this. Hadn’t meant to… _destroy_ everything.

All around him, the ground was flattened and scorched to black. And the smell of burning hung in the air, acrid and smoking and he would have screamed again, making everything burst into flame, if it wasn’t for the arms that were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him close to someone’s chest.

If it was anyone else, he would have panicked and lashed out, and his magic would have consumed them both in its gnashing teeth.

But it was Stark.

Just Stark. 

Who hadn’t hurt him yet. Who had done nothing but help him, but be kind to him. And so there was no reason to flinch, to panic, to run away. Because perhaps, if he stayed here, he would somehow be _safe_.

So instead of lashing out, Loki gripped Stark's sleeves tightly, and pressed his forehead to the arc reactor on his chest. And instead of smelling smoke, he smelled motor oil and sweat. Instead of burning, his magic rushed through him in a calming wind, letting him breathe again.

It was humiliating, to be clinging to him like this. Humiliating, and he should let go and stand up but… he didn’t want to.

When he had forgotten, he had been so desolate. There had been no hope.

But now, because Stark was kneeling next to him and hugging him close, he had some again.

And Loki knew that if it did turn out, somehow, that this was a lie, that his hope was false, if Stark turned into a Chitauri before his eyes or lashed out and punched him in the jaw, Loki would not break (it was too late for that). He would shatter. 

The thought terrified him.

Hope was foolish, was dangerous, was even deadly. He should stomp it into the ground, should silence it before it could make a sound. But he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Perhaps he could just have this one moment. Just this moment.

And once it was over, he could be wary, again. Afraid, again. And he wouldn’t touch Stark, wouldn’t be near to him if he didn’t have to. But for _now_ , just for _now_ … 

He could pretend.

Loki sighed, sighed softly, and he felt Stark shiver. He closed his eyes.

Stark snorted.

“What?”

“Your eyelashes are tickling me.”

Loki laughed softly. “Well, you need a shower. I’m surprised I’m even touching you. You’re filthy.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I smell like roses.”

“Sure. Roses that took a bath in sweat.”

Loki laughed into Stark’s neck, and Stark laughed into Loki’s hair. Loki could feel Stark’s shoulders shaking with his laughter, and feel his breath on his forehead, warm, and light as a ghost’s touch.

“Oh, and call me Tony,” he said. “I mean, we’re hugging, and crying on each other and getting all sweaty and gross. I think we should be on a first name basis by now.”

“Mmm. But Tony is such an awful name.”

“Is _not!”_ he cried, indignantly. “I have a pretty cool name, actually. Better than ‘Fjord’, or whatever you space vikings name your kids.”

“A fjord is a narrow strip of water bordered by glaciers, Tony.”

“Whatever.” Loki could hear Tony’s smile in his voice.

Eventually they pulled apart, both complaining loudly about how sweaty the other was, and went back inside. They ate oatmeal together on the couch, then both took showers. Loki put on an entirely new set of clothes and threw away the bloody shirt. He also put a new bandage on his chest.

Through it all, he couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was a shit ton of angst I know but like... that's why you're here. Don't pretend you don't like it.  
> Also so apparently Spiderman is leaving the MCU… which I am sad about because 1. No more angsty moments of remembering Tony, and 2. No more totally unnecessary Happy/Aunt May (unless they find a way to work that into another movie which I doubt lol) but the worst thing is that we might not get a resolution to that MASSIVE FUCKING CLIFFHANGER in Far From Home!! Nooo  
> Now we're just gonna have Spiderman fight Venom :/  
> I'm not THAT mad because the Spiderman films were never my favorite, but I AM mad about that fucking cliffhanger.  
> Annnyway hopefully this will all get resolved somehow.  
> -  
> And this is a bit early but, what I was wondering what kind of cute, coupley, fluffy moments you guys would like to see with Tony and Loki? Because I may or may not be REALLY far ahead in writing this. And no, that wasn't a spoiler, because the pairing is in the tags. Don't complain.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guess what? A new trigger is gonna be introduced in this chapter! Yayyyy! I won’t say what it is because spoilerinos but 1. Read the tags brochacho and 2. READ THE TAGS BROCHACHO.   
> And you can probably guess what it is because I mean we’ve covered most of the tags by now, lol, there aren’t many left that haven’t been used here so far… so yeah.   
> Oh and I’d like to say thank you for your comments on the last chapter! They were so sweet and encouraging, which I sometimes need because I do tend to second-guess myself, and I start to dislike my own work because I’ll notice one tiny flaw and think the entire thing is terrible… which is why I tend to not finish things. I’m kind of a perfectionist I guess. But just knowing that you guys like it (two people left their very first comments on the last chapter because apparently they just liked it THAT much, which is INSANE) makes me so happy and feel so much better about this story and just my writing in general… I could talk for hours about how much I love you guys. You’re amazing. And I honestly mean that. Because I want to be a writer… like, an actual writer of actual fucking books, and just knowing that there are people out there who don’t even know me, and have no reason to be reading this and yet still do and actually seem to genuinely LIKE it means the world to me so thank you. (Sorry for the ramble, haha, just had to say it.)  
> Aaaaanyway. Angst. But kind of a bittersweet, cute/sad angst towards the end? Enjoy?

Tony stuck close to Loki’s side all day. 

He didn’t ask any needless questions. If Loki wanted to talk about it, then he could talk, and Tony would listen. But instead, Loki seemed content to curl up in a fat armchair and listen as Tony rambled on about his latest project. He was also content to doze off in said armchair, and Tony watched nervously, wondering if he would have forgotten everything once he woke up.

Throughout the day, there had been gaps in his memory. When Jarvis spoke, Loki tensed and asked who was talking. When Tony explained that it was his AI, and that Loki had heard him speak before, Loki seemed to deflate. “Oh. I’m so… I must have forgotten, didn’t I?” 

But as the day went on, these gaps occurred less and less, until it seemed that he had his memory back. He flinched quite often still, and he didn’t touch Tony at all beyond the totally-unexpected-but-weirdly-nice hug they had shared, but other than that he seemed to be back to his snarky self - making jokes at Tony’s expense, and smirking at the expression on Tony’s face when he heard them.

And they both knew that it was only a matter of time before  _ something _ went wrong - SHIELD finding them again, Loki having another panic attack or losing his memory - but when everything was going well, it was  _ fun. _ So fun. Weirdly fun.

Now Loki was asleep. Tony checked the clock. It was only nine, but there was nothing wrong with going to bed early.

But he didn’t want to leave Loki to wake up scared and alone, not knowing where he was.

So he grabbed a blanket and pillow and laid down on the couch that was next to Loki’s armchair. It was uncomfortable but it would be worth a sore back if they could both avoid going through what had happened that morning again.

Although if Loki woke up with Tony in the same room as him, thinking that they were still enemies, that might make it worse.

But what else was he supposed to do?

()()()

Loki was lying on the floor, curled up in the corner.

He was crying.

“Hey,” Tony said, approaching cautiously, with one hand outstretched like Loki was a cornered animal. “Hey. It’s just me.”

Loki shook his head, and tears splattered the walls. “No,” he said, voice so quiet and yet seeming to echo. As Tony watched, he started to bleed. He raised his hands, staring at them, and gashes opened and blood flowed out in a river, pooling on the floor. A dark red stain blossomed in the center of his chest and spread until his clothes were soaked, and there was more red than pale skin. “No.  _ Lygari. Lygari.” _

“It’s just me,” Tony said. “It’s Tony. You know me.”

Loki shook his head violently, and blood dripped down his forehead, into his eyes. “No. No.  _ Lygari. _ I don’t know who you are.”

()()()

Tony woke up at midnight. 

Someone was shaking him.

“Wha…” he managed to say, before groaning and pushing their arm away. “Stop. Jesus Christ, what the hell is… what you doin’?”

“Tony.”

“Quit interfering with my sleep schedule, Pep.”

“Tony…”

A man’s voice. Had Tony hooked up with someone last night? Probably.

“Hnngh,” he said. “You can let yourself out the front door. Call me.”

“Are you all right? You were tossing and turning. I think you were having a nightmare. And where are we? Weren’t we in a different room? I don’t understand how we got here.” His voice sounded urgent.

Sounded familiar.

Tony opened his eyes. “Oh. Loki.  _ Loki. _ Did you sleep all right? Are you feeling okay?”

“I… I don’t know. Are you?”

Tony groaned and threw a hand over his eyes, even though the light was off and it was so dark that he could hardly make out Loki’s face. “Hell no. You say I had a nightmare?” Tony could remember bits and pieces. Mostly, all he remembered was blood.

“Yes. It woke me up.”

“And were you okay when you woke up?” Tony asked, moving his arm away to meet Loki’s eyes.

Loki’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. “I… I don’t remember…  _ Fyrirgefðu.” _

“That’s okay,” Tony said, quickly. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. You’re just asleep in the living room.”

There was silence, until Tony started to laugh.

“Oh god, we are the  _ worst _ two people to be sleeping in the same room, aren’t we? The absolute fucking goddamn worst.”

“Exactly how I would have put it. Along with dysfunctional, unstable, maladjusted…” 

“Oh, come on.” Tony yawned, but put up a finger to keep Loki from talking. “We’re not completely bonkers, just a ‘lil screwed up. No need to quote the entire thesaurus.”

He heard Loki’s soft sigh only a moment before he felt it, like a gentle breeze on his skin. He got goosebumps. “Just a little screwed up,” Loki repeated, softly. “I like that.”

“Me too.”

()()()

“Is there anything you can do to protect your memories?” Tony asked.

A few minutes ago, Loki had put a hand to his head, and to the ends of his hair. “What happened to my hair?” he had asked, turning to Tony, eyes frantic. “Why is it so short?”

“You cut it.”

“No I… I did?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I must have forgotten…”

Oh, and then Tony was hit by the most brilliant idea he had ever had the pleasure of being clocked over the head with: “Hey, er, your haircut’s kind of crooked… want me to trim it for you?”

So now Loki was sitting in front of him and Tony was trying to figure out how the hell to cut someone’s hair.

He made a few tentative snips. Surveyed his handiwork. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. He supposed that when you were an engineer who had assembled an entire metal suit of armor in just a few days while under threat of torture, you could pretty much handle cutting someone’s hair straight.

A couple of minutes passed, and then Tony asked the question. “Is there anything you can do to protect your memories? I mean, can’t your magic just… I don’t know, hold them in place?”

“If it could, don’t you think I would have tried that already?” Loki snapped. He flexed the fingers of his other hand, breathing sharply. 

“Sorry,” Tony said. He cut off a large chunk. Too large? Oops.

“No… no.” Loki seemed to melt, all his anger fading away. He slumped back in his seat. “You couldn’t have known.” He paused. “I’m sorry to have to put you through this. Seeing me so… pathetic, every morning.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Tony said, automatically. But he did mean it. “Just a ‘lil screwed up. Never pathetic. Not you.” Briefly, he rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder.

Loki didn’t respond to that, which probably meant that he didn’t believe him. 

Tony finished the haircut. He walked in a circle around Loki, muttering “Hmm” several times. “Looks good,” he finally said, handing Loki a mirror.

“It is surprisingly adequate,” Loki said.

Tony supposed that was the best he was going to get out of him.

“Hey,” Tony said, looking at him. Loki met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Can you show me a spell?” He pressed his pointer finger to the pad of his thumb. “Just a little one. Pleeease?” He scooted over a chair and sat in front of Loki, leaning forward eagerly.

“Fine,” Loki said, then paused, seeming uncertain. Slowly, he reached out his hand. “It requires contact,” he said, sounding apologetic.

Tony took his hand without hesitating. 

Loki’s hand was soft, and warm, and fit nicely into Tony’s.

Loki took a deep breath, looking directly into Tony’s eyes. He raised his other hand and green light flared from his fingertips. He turned his hand, waving his fingers around, and the light shifted like rays of sunlight, shining underwater. Ethereal. 

“Do you want to feel it?” he whispered.

Tony nodded.

He held his breath as Loki offered that hand to him. Tony raised his own, cautiously, and Loki nodded. So Tony took Loki’s other hand.

It was gentle. 

He hadn’t expected it to be gentle.

But it was a breeze, blowing through his body. He shivered at the sensation. He could feel the power whirling within him. A breeze could easily become a hurricane. 

But it was gentle.

And Loki smiled, and Tony gasped as it flowed over his skin, like the tenderest of touches, the lightest of breaths. But he didn’t  _ feel _ it. Do you feel the beating of your heart? The flowing of your blood? No, he didn’t feel it, but he knew that it should have always been there. That this was something better, a better way to live.

“It’s not actually touching you,” Loki explained. “But everyone has some  _ seidr _ within them. And the empty place, where it would reside, should it grow. My magic is filling that space within you.”

“I have magic?” Tony asked.

“Yes. But you are human, and cannot learn to control it. You will not live long enough,” Loki said, sounding apologetic. “It structures you, it breathes life into you. But nothing more.”

“Oh.”

Tony felt empty once Loki’s magic retreated from his body. He realized that he was breathing hard, and he swallowed, trying to calm down. “That was amazing.”

Loki smiled. “Thank you.”

They both glanced down at their intertwined hands. And, as one, they let go, avoiding each others’ eyes and folding their hands in their laps. 

()()()

Loki didn’t eat dinner. 

Tony had made them both spaghetti and garlic bread, because he didn’t feel like going shopping. And yeah, he was an awful cook, but he had spent an hour or so toiling over this goddamn recipe, and he thought he had done a pretty decent job.

He set it in front of Loki, and Loki looked at it like  _ it _ was going to eat  _ him _ . He shifted uncomfortably, pressing himself against the back of the chair, and glanced between Tony and the food several times.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked.

Loki just shook his head.

“It’s not poisoned. I promise. We aren’t going to hurt each other, remember?”

“But I already hurt you,” Loki said. “I attacked you with my magic.”

“You were scared.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“Yes.”

Loki met Tony’s eyes cautiously. He picked up the fork, and set it down again. 

“It’s really not poisoned.”

“I  _ know,” _ Loki snapped, glaring at his plate. 

Tony sat down across from him and took a bite of his spaghetti. “S’ good,” he said, around the mouthful. He bit off a piece of garlic bread, and winced. “Um… kinda burnt. But still good. It’s good! Aren’t you hungry?”

Loki shook his head again, and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “No. I’m sorry.”

Tony reached across the table and took his hand. Loki stared at him. “It’s okay,” Tony said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I’ll make you a nice breakfast. Does that sound good?”

Loki smiled weakly. “Yes. Sounds good.”

()()()

“I don’t know who you are,” Loki said. He convulsed, like he was going to throw up. Blood ran out of his mouth, and he tried to stop it with his hand, but it ran between his fingers, down his neck, in a river down his chest. 

“I’m Tony,” Tony said. He grabbed Loki’s hand.

He was holding on to nothing but blood. 

Loki fell back against the wall, writhing as his skin melted away into a sluggish, crimson pool. He coughed up blood, choked on it. It came out of his eyes.

Then he was gone, and nothing was left but a puddle of blood. Tony fell to his knees in it, running his hands through it frantically to find  _ something _ but there was nothing but the stench and the emptiness and nothing, nothing at all.

()()()

He jolted awake out of his nightmare, panting, gasping for breath.

And immediately, he looked to the armchair, where Loki had been. But he was gone.  _ He was gone. _ Panic rose up in Tony’s throat, as he stumbled off the couch. His phone was ringing but he ignored it. “Jarvis? Where’s Loki?” 

**Mr. Odinson is in his room, sir.**

It didn’t take long to find him. He was huddled in the corner, with that goddamn pillow. Tony sighed softly and knelt in front of him, which produced a horrible sense of deja vu. “Hey, Loki. S’just me. Just me. I won’t hurt you. Do you remember the rules we made? I promised. I promised that I would never hurt you.”

He held his breath, waiting for Loki’s reaction. 

Loki nodded. And slowly, but surely, he relaxed, and pushed the pillow away, holding his hands out for Tony to take. He did. “I remember,” Loki said. 

But for how long?

()()()

Tony was making eggs again. Loki was curled up in the armchair, staring vacantly at the wall.

Tony checked his phone. 

It had been Pepper calling.

He grimaced. They had broken up, but she was still (used to be) his assistant and cared about him. What would she think about all this? From her point of view, it must seem like Tony was going insane.

She had left a message.

He glanced furtively at Loki. He didn’t want to leave him alone. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called to him. “That okay?”

Loki looked at him and nodded.

Tony gave the eggs a stir and left the room. He tapped on the message, and Pepper’s voice began to drift into his ears, bringing with it a strange sense of homesickness.

_ “Hey, Tony. I miss you.”  _

He could hear the slight tremble in her voice, giving away the emotions that were buried beneath the surface. She was probably pacing, relaying the message to Jarvis as she wrung her hands and focused on keeping the tears from her eyes. He wondered what color lipstick she was wearing, and what hairstyle. Did she have on high-heels? 

Was she crying?

_ “I know things aren’t looking so good, and everyone’s telling me to give up and start using your name as a curse, like they are. But I thought I’d call you anyway. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t pick up. But I still want to talk to you, if you’re even able to listen.”  _

Her voice hardened.

_ “I hope you have a decent explanation. I really, really hope so. I know you’ve never been one for thinking things through before you act, but I also know that you’ve always tried to do the right thing. And they can tell me otherwise as much as they want, but dammit, I want to believe the best of you. _

_ “So if he’s controlling you somehow, if he’s making you do this, if  _ he’s _ the only one listening to this message and you’re…” _ he could hear her sharp intake of breath.  _ “Then know that we will find you. If you need help, we will help you. And we will kill Loki for what he’s done.” _

Click.

She was gone.

Tony googled his own name. For once, it wasn’t spurred by his narcissism. Because the titles that came up were… disconcerting, to say the least.

The media seemed to be split between labelling him a traitor and a victim. Tony didn’t particularly care for either. But he scrolled down, through news site after news site, and everyone seemed to know that he had broken Loki out of SHIELD. And had threatened to kill Nick Fury.

Damn. 

One title stood out to him.

“Avengers denounce Iron Man.” It read. 

He scrolled through the article. There was a video showing Steve sitting on a couch beneath bright lights, probably for an interview. He clicked on it and sat down on the couch to watch.

“We assembled to protect earth,” Steve said, in response to the interviewer’s question - do you still consider Tony Stark an Avenger? “We protected it from Loki. To set him free again, it’s…” Steve’s lips flattened. “It’s unforgivable. No, no, I don’t consider him an Avenger. That’s not what we stand for.”

“And how do you feel about his nickname? They’re calling him the ‘Iron Viper’,” she said.

Tony didn’t know whether to laugh, or… or something. He did nothing.

Steve was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Accurate.” He laughed, although it was strained. “Accurate,” he repeated, nodding his head. 

“Shit,” Tony said. He rubbed his eyes. He had just wanted to do the right thing. He never wanted to lose the only friends he had in the process…

“Tony?” 

Tony paused the video.

Loki was standing hesitantly in the doorway. “The eggs are burning.”

“Shit,” Tony said, again. He stuffed the phone in his pocket, and started to rush past Loki, but Loki caught his wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching.

Tony stopped.

“No. No, not really,” he said, honestly.

Cautiously, Loki laced their hands together. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes, instead, he looked at the ground. Tony saw him swallow. And magic flared up in their intertwined hands, rushing through Tony’s body, making him shiver and hold his breath. 

When it faded away, he would have felt empty, except Loki squeezed his hands and didn’t let go, offering him a small smile.

Tony smiled back.

And realized that he was wrong.

He hadn’t lost all of his friends, had he?

He had just lost the ones that weren’t worth his time.

()()()

“Want some?” Tony asked, setting the plate on the arm of the chair Loki was sprawled in. The eggs were fluffy and cheesy, the bacon crispy and greasy. Tony had done his best to make it as delicious as possible in the hopes that Loki would eat.

Loki took the fork Tony offered him and eyed the food warily. “Thank you,” he said, ignoring Tony’s question. He didn’t look like he wanted it.

Tony picked a piece of scrambled egg off of Loki’s plate and popped it in his mouth. “Not poisoned,” he said. He chewed and swallowed, and threw his arms up. “See?”

Loki just shook his head.

Tony frowned. He snapped off a piece of bacon, and ate it. “That’s not poisoned either,” he said. He pushed the plate towards Loki. “Just a little. Just eat a little.”

Loki glared at him. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Tony said. “You won’t get better if you don’t eat.” 

Loki jerked away, flattening himself against the chair. “Red,” he choked out, pushing Tony’s hand away. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed the plate and took it back into the kitchen. 

He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but now Loki was shivering and… sure, maybe he shouldn’t have pressured him, but Loki hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and Tony wasn’t about to let him starve himself. Tony cared about him too much.

And wasn’t that crazy?

()()()

A few minutes later, Loki went outside.

Tony sat at the table, alternating between glancing out the window and scrolling through news sites. He didn’t find any new information, he only got steadily angrier.

Loki seemed to be having the same problem.

But at least he wasn’t being so destructive this time. He had taken two knives from the kitchen, and he was whirling through the air, stabbing imaginary attackers. It was impressive, the way he leaped and spun, almost like a dance. But Tony could see the power in the way he moved. 

He started to throw them. Spin, throw, spin, throw. (Awkwardly walk over and yank them out of the tree.) Tony could imagine himself in place of the poor trees that Loki was cutting up - blood spilling out of his stomach. Why hadn’t Loki used knives when he attacked New York? He was amazing with them, much more effective than he had been with that scepter.

Why hadn’t he used any magic? 

Tony looked back down at his phone. 

Apparently, everybody - SHIELD, the military, even the Avengers - were actively searching for the “Iron Viper” and his deranged companion. Well, just because they  _ said _ that they were searching didn’t mean they actually  _ were _ , but Tony was glad for his tech nonetheless. It blocked all signs of magic both in the house and the surrounding area. This house was originally designed for hunkering down in complete secrecy - which meant that power fluctuations, sudden bursts of energy or electricity, and any other sign that Tony Stark could possibly be living here were hidden. Luckily, magic fell into one or another of those categories. At least, he hoped so, and it seemed to be the case since SHIELD hadn’t found them yet. He hadn’t really expected Loki to go outside and start blowing things up, like he did yesterday. They were both lucky that Tony had these precautions in place.

But they couldn’t bet on luck forever. They would have to be more careful from now on.

_ From now on. _ What a strange sentence. Because, if he was honest, Tony didn’t see himself leaving any time soon.

And he was fine with that.

For one thing, he had already gone too far. If he suddenly returned home and let SHIELD have Loki, it would be too late - everyone already seemed to hate him.

And he didn’t know if he could handle the guilt.

Because if SHIELD got Loki, they would kill him.

Nope. No. That was  _ not  _ an option.

No, no, no. Never, ever, ever.

He glanced out the window again to see Loki wrench his knife out of a tree, before whirling and sending it hurtling towards another, aided by a bright flash of magic. They were like bullets, and Tony hoped that he never got on Loki’s bad side.

And wasn’t it strange that Loki was outside, with his magic loose, completely free to go, and yet he didn’t. In fact, when he had burned out all his rage, or exhausted himself, which was the more likely option, he came trudging back to the door. He even opened it, stepped inside, and closed it behind himself, like a proper gentleman.

“Have fun?” Tony asked, leaning his elbow on the table, taking a sip of coffee. He put down his phone and opened his laptop, which was next to it. He really didn’t have anything to do, so he plugged in his earbuds, stuck one in his ear, and pulled up another video - another interview with Steve. He hadn’t found any interviews with any of the other Avengers, or with anyone else he gave a shit about. And the shit he gave about Steve was diminishing in size by the minute.

“ _ So _ much fun,” Loki said. Tony glanced up. Loki was breathing hard, and grinning like a maniac. There was a light in his eyes. One that hadn’t been there before.

“Figures that knife-throwing is your favorite pastime,” Tony muttered, aimlessly opening a new tab. He typed his name into the search bar. The first two results were:  _ Tony Stark is the Iron Viper. _ And:  _ Tony Stark is evil.  _ The next few were:  _ is with Loki, abducted by Loki, is being brainwashed by Loki. _

“It is quite exhilarating, once you become skilled at it,” Loki said. He was holding both of the knives in one hand, and he ran his finger over one of their blades. Tony narrowed his eyes. He knew Loki wouldn’t throw a knife at him - did he know that? He  _ was relatively certain _ , more like - but it still set him on edge (no pun intended, but appreciated nonetheless).

Loki must have noticed, because he grinned again. “Don’t worry,” he said, holding up the knives. “If I was going to kill you, I would find a much more creative way than this.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, cause chucking me out a fucking window was so creative.”

Loki tensed, which was weird, because they had joked about this before. “It was effective enough,” he said, his words strangely clipped. He looked down at his hand, and Tony saw a drop of blood on his finger, where it had run over the knife. He also saw Loki press his thumb to the wound, look back up, and not mention it.

“Need a bandaid?” Tony asked. The wound was small enough, but it was the  _ principle _ that irked him. Loki couldn’t honestly believe that Tony hadn’t seen it.

“No.” Loki said.

“‘Kay,” he said, watching Loki set the knives down on the counter with a clatter, step into the kitchen, and open the fridge as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Tony held his breath, wondering if Loki was going to eat something.

He pulled out a milk carton, unscrewed the lid, and sniffed it. He screwed up his nose. “Why does your Midgardian food rot so easily? And why do you  _ keep _ it?”

Tony waved a hand at him. “Throw it away, then, if it means so much to you. I’m busy.”

There was the sound of Loki tossing the milk carton in the trash, and then the weight of an extra pair of eyes peering at the computer screen. Tony closed it halfway so Loki couldn’t see, and turned in his chair. “Can I help you?”

Loki was leaning over his shoulder, but drew away. “They know, don’t they?”

“What?”

“I can see it in your face.”

_ “What?” _

“Well, that gave me an idea that something was wrong. But I also asked Jarvis.”

“What? When?”

“Earlier,” Loki said. He gave no further explanation.

Tony slumped down into his chair, and opened the computer again. “They’re calling me the Iron Viper,” he said, halfheartedly clicking to a news page for Loki to see. 

And see he did. One of his hands gripping the top of the chair by Tony’s head, the other on his hip, and he leaned in, so close that Tony could feel his breath on his neck. Jesus. He  _ had _ to stop doing that. 

Loki’s eyes moved as he read, his face completely serious, his posture rigid. Maybe the information was sensitive, and Loki shouldn’t be reading it, but Tony didn’t care. He had already gone too far - what was the harm in going farther? The world was going to shit anyway.

“Interesting,” was what Loki said when he was done reading. He stepped away from Tony, went back to the fridge, took out a bottle of whisky, and drank. And drank. And  _ fuck _ he just kept drinking.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony asked.

Loki set the half-empty bottle on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Asgardians have a higher alcohol tolerance than you Midgardians and your pathetic mortal bodies.”

“Sheesh.”

But maybe it would do Loki some good. You know, to numb everything. 

Tony wondered what had brought that on. Surely, Loki didn’t care about Tony’s new nickname enough to spur him to drink half a bottle of whisky. Maybe it was because of his temper tantrum earlier. Or just… everything in general. 

Probably.

Because when he pulled at his shirt to scratch his back, Tony could see the long, white scars from the whip. When the collar of his shirt fell down too far, there was the unmistakable bandage there, like a predator lying in wait for its prey. 

It was impressive, that he could be standing casually in Tony’s kitchen, talking as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing had happened. And how did he keep  _ doing _ that? If Tony couldn’t see the scars, and if he didn’t _ know  _ about… everything, then he would never have guessed that Loki had been...

...tortured...

And would probably be giving him a nice repulsor blast to the face right now.

“I’m hungry,” Loki announced. He held up an apple. “Can I have this?”

“Of course!” Tony cried, much too enthusiastically, unable to keep from smiling. Loki raised an eyebrow, and Tony quickly sorted his face into a less overjoyed expression, but he couldn’t help but watch as Loki took a bite. And chewed it. And swallowed. 

_ Finally. _

“I will go now,” Loki said. “To my room.”

“Yep,” Tony said.

He watched him go, and even listened to the fading patter of his footsteps, only turning back to the computer screen once they had gone.

()()()

A week - had it been a week already? - away from home was doing him good. 

It was like a vacation. And he hadn’t been on a vacation in  _ years. _

Before all this, he had been so  _ bored _ . He had spent the year since the attack on New York fighting all sorts of try-hard, newbie supervillains, gangsters, and terrorists, and in between those fights, he had gone to meetings and built suits and hooked up with women, and a few men, who all managed, impressively, to be completely devoid of any personality. It was a lot of stuff to do, but it was all so goddamn boring.

Here, he wasn’t fighting anyone (except for Loki when he forgot things and didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t count), he wasn’t going to meetings or building suits or hooking up with anyone but he felt more alive than he had in a long time. 

His life had gotten too predictable. That was it.

And here was the God of Chaos, taking his life and crumpling it up like it was a piece of paper. And burning the paper. And replacing it with a brand new one. But that was a  _ good _ thing. And even though he wasn’t working, he somehow wasn’t bored.

Because as soon as he was done typing aimlessly for about five minutes, he went to Loki’s room, knocked on the door, and offered him a game of chess. They played, and it was  _ fun _ . Then they watched a movie and they went outside and looked at the damage done to the trees, and Tony asked Loki to demonstrate his knife-throwing technique, which was a very, very bad idea but he didn’t give a fuck and he was sick of good ideas because they were all so dull and boring and bland and goddamn how did he  _ survive _ before this? Loki obliged, put one of the knives in Tony’s hand, and adjusted his grip on it. His fingers slid over Tony’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, shifting the knife’s angle, and the positions of his fingers on its blade.

Tony pulled his arm back and threw it. It hit the tree, bounced off, and fell into a pile of leaves. Beside him, Loki laughed, and threw his own knife. It landed with a  _ thunk _ , embedding itself in the wood.

They stayed out there for about an hour, while Loki showed Tony how to make the knife actually land. He never got anywhere close to being as skilled as Loki was, but by the time they were done, he could actually land the knife in the tree. And it was fun.

They went inside, ate dinner (well, Tony gorged himself, while Loki only ate a bite or two), wandered around for a bit, then watched movies until midnight, when Tony announced that they should both go to bed.

He laid down on the couch, but Loki remained upright in the armchair, his fingers moving over his lip, his entire body tense.

Tony could already tell that the fun had come to an end.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you gonna sleep?” 

Loki shook his head.

Tony sat up. “What? Why? Is it…” the answer came to him easily. It was so obvious what Loki was thinking. After all, every time he slept, he woke up terrified and confused.

Tony left the couch in favor of crouching by the side of Loki’s chair. “I get it,” he said. “But you have to rest. You said it yourself - you won’t heal unless your magic heals first, and your magic won’t heal if you don’t sleep. Right?”

Loki nodded slowly. “Yes. But… I could stay awake for just one night.”

Tony sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He felt like an asshole for saying it. But Loki had to heal.

Tony went back to the couch and laid down, and Loki laid down in his chair. The room was just bright enough that Tony could see Loki’s closed eyes, and the rise and fall of his chest, that slowed as the minutes went on, until his entire body relaxed. His face did, too, showing none of the signs of stress that were usually so prominent.

Tony folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling.

Yeah, yeah, all of this was crazy. But even though he knew things were going to get bad again, inevitably, there wasn’t a fraction of a chance that he was going to leave.

When he finally fell into sleep, it was dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this was kind of a reprieve from the last chapter? I don't wanna just constantly punch you guys in the face with the angst. I like to alternate between punches and slightly-less-painful slaps across the head. With the occasional stab in the back. If you know what I mean. (I don't even know what I mean.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy lovely people! Hope you had an awesome day! *Is listening to AC/DC and dancing*  
> Anywayyy school starts for me in three days, so I won't be able to write as obsessively as I would like to. I do have a ton of chapters prewritten but I'm due for another huge-fucking-edit of all of them and that may take some timeeee. I won't necessarily post less frequently but I'm just saying that that IS a possibility.  
> Oh and as always thankss for all your comments and kudos and bookmarks and niceness ily <3  
> And thanks to DocWordsmith for beta readinggg.  
> Um this chapter basically expands on all the triggers that were introduced in the last chapter lol. Enjoy the angst!

It was a simple spell.

Easy, to creep unbidden into Tony’s mind and steal away his nightmares.

And maybe Loki shouldn’t have done it, but he needed to repay Tony in  _ some _ way. At least something. Despite how often he kept saying that Loki didn’t owe him anything, Loki still felt like he was in debt. A very large one, at that. If Tony truly wasn’t a Chitauri, and wasn’t planning on hurting him, then Loki owed him his life.

But it wasn’t like the nightmares just disappeared. 

The scene was there, unfolding in the back of Loki’s mind. Like he was daydreaming, and couldn’t snap out of it. And as soon as he saw what Tony had been having nightmares about, he wanted to take them and shove them back in his skull. 

Because Tony had been dreaming of him.

But in the worst way.

Dreaming of him bloody, and injured, and huddled pathetically in a corner, with all his memory gone… dying, again and again. Loki winced every time he heard his own miserable cries.

He shuddered when he heard himself beg.

And Loki would have been afraid that this meant Tony was having some sick fantasy about torturing him, if it weren’t for the pure  _ terror _ that accompanied his dreams, and the desperation as Tony sank his hands into Loki’s blood, up to the wrists, trying to find some part of him left. And it made sense - because when he had been tossing and turning in his sleep yesterday, it definitely hadn’t been because he was seeing some depraved fantasy play out in his mind. Loki could see the fear in the way his eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing coming fast, how he jerked violently when Loki shook him awake.

But that didn’t make the dreams any easier to bear.

Loki swallowed, slowly crept away from the armchair, slunk into the corner, put his arms up over his head and drew his knees to his chest, because it made him feel safe. 

And there, Tony’s nightmares played in his head, keeping him awake. 

()()()

When Tony stirred, Loki quickly got back in the chair and curled up, pretending to be asleep. He was good at pretending, so it was no surprise when he heard Tony yawn as he walked right past him.

But apparently, pretending wouldn’t be enough. Because after splashing some tap water on his face (at least, that’s what it sounded like he was doing) Tony said, “Jarvis, did Loki sleep last night?”

Loki stiffened. 

**No, sir. Loki did not sleep at all last night.**

“Is he asleep now?”

**No.**

Slowly, Loki raised his head and looked at Tony, feeling like a child caught in the act of stealing. Why did he feel guilty? Tony couldn’t control whether he slept or not.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, automatically. “I’m sorry. I…” he trailed off, wrapping his arms around his chest. The Loki from Tony’s nightmares echoed his words, and so did the real one from several weeks ago, curled up on the ground of the throne room and begging, begging, begging.

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Tony snapped.

It was only a reflex that made Loki shrink back into the chair, but when Tony saw it, he seemed to deflate. “Don’t be sorry,” he repeated, softly, like Loki was an injured puppy. He walked over to him and instead of remaining standing, and towering over him, he crouched down so they were at eye level. “I told you, I get it. And I probably would have done the same thing. But it’s not good for you.”

And forgetting everything was? Thinking that Tony was a Chitauri who was going to hurt him, going to  _ rape _ him, was better than losing a night of sleep?

No. If Loki could, he would never sleep again.

How could Tony try to say that he understood? He couldn’t understand unless he  _ felt _ it.

“This is no concern of yours,” he said, summoning the courage to lean forward and glare directly into Tony’s eyes.

“Yes, it is.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell quickly with a silent laugh. “Oh, so you  _ own _ me now? You control me? Let me tell you, you won’t be the first.”

He hadn’t meant to say that.

Why did he say that?

Tony tensed, and his eyes filled with unmistakable  _ sadness _ and  _ concern _ and  _ pity, _ he even reached out for him as if to comfort him and Loki couldn’t take it. He shoved Tony aside and stalked past him to the door. Green light was already flashing dangerously from his fingertips, and he had to take all this anger out on something.

“Loki. Wait.”

He ignored him, whipping the door open so hard that the handle cracked against the wall.

“Wait!” Tony yelled, running to him and grabbing his wrist.

Loki yanked it away. His breaths were sharp. He drew away from Tony, fumbling for a grip on the edge of the counter, something to root him. And he eyed Tony suspiciously, never taking his eyes off him as he let out an angry huff of a breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“You can’t go outside yet. We have to talk. You remember the third rule, right?”

Loki stiffened. Was Tony mocking him? “Yes,” he said, curtly. “I remember.”

“Good. Come on then, let’s sit down.”

They sat down across from each other at the table. Tony folded his arms, and Loki balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth.

Then Tony got up, and returned with a bottle of scotch. He poured a glass for himself, and one for Loki, with plenty of ice. Loki took it silently and downed the entire thing, reaching for the bottle and pouring himself some more

“Jesus,” Tony muttered.

Then he sighed, and pressed his hands together against his chin, like he was praying. He let out a breath. “Okay. Um.” He scratched his head, and leaned back in the chair, scrutinizing Loki like he was one of his precious pieces of metal, something broken that had to be pieced back together again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you just... “ he waved his hand through the air, as if that was equivalent to finishing the sentence.

“And why would you care,” Loki said, so flatly that it wasn’t a question. He folded his arms, mimicking Tony’s poze. 

“Because I just do, all right?” Tony raised his voice, almost yelling. Loki didn’t flinch, but Tony immediately sucked in a breath and lowered his voice again, as if Loki couldn’t handle being shouted at (and he was probably right). “I care. I fucking  _ care _ . I want you to get better, and that’s only gonna happen if your magic recovers, which means you can’t be sleep-deprived and  _ starving yourself _ .”

Loki stared at him, his mouth hanging slightly open. He closed it with a snap. “I am  _ not _ ,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Starving myself.”

“Then why didn’t you eat? You skipped two meals!” Tony’s hands were clenched into fists, hovering over the table as if he was going to slam them down. “And I  _ know _ that you’ve been hiding food--”

Loki tensed.

“Jug was washing the sheets on your bed and he found a bunch of granola bars and apples which is  _ fine, _ you’re allowed to take food into your room if you want to, but Jarvis told me that you haven’t eaten any of that, either. You’ve barely eaten anything!”

“I haven’t been hungry.”

“It doesn’t matter! You have to eat.”

“Are you going to force me to?” Loki asked, aware that his voice had grown loud and high in pitch, bordering on hysterical. He made an effort to calm his breathing, to maintain some dignity. But there was no where to put his anger aside from in his voice.

So he stood up, and started to pace.

“That’s not what I…”

“Are you?” he interrupted, whirling on Tony, who was still seated, his eyes following him. “Well? If I was starving myself, if I wasn’t sleeping, if I forgot where I was and tried to kill you, what would you do about it?” he prowled around the table in circles. “It doesn’t matter how much you  _ care _ ,” he said the word like it was a curse, pouring all of his loathing into it. “This is hopeless.”

He grabbed the knives off the counter, flung the door open and slammed it behind himself, like an angry child, before stalking down the hill. This time, he went out of sight of the doorway, not wanting Tony to know how angry he was, although it was probably fairly obvious.

Then he exploded a tree in half. And threw his knives at its sad carcass, magic aiding him, green flashes of light dancing on his fingertips. 

He should stop doing this. Should stop using his magic to take out his anger. It would only make him heal slower.

But otherwise, he would take out his anger on Tony.

He had always been good at concealing his emotions, save anger. It always found a way to show itself. To hurt something. Like a monster.

_ He _ was like a monster.  _ (Was a monster.) _

And he hadn’t thought about it for a long time, not really. He had been  _ preoccupied. _ But now, the memory came crashing back, of blue skin bathed in shadow, of red eyes mocking him, of that terrible knowledge that made him want to claw the skin from his chest.

And he would have. Would have, if he didn’t know that it was hopeless. He couldn’t get rid of the word, no more than he could get rid of what he was. And they were one and the same, weren’t they? The burn on his chest. Whore. The blue of his skin. Monster. Creature. It was true. Everything Thanos and the Chitauri had said to him, had made him repeat. They hadn’t… they hadn’t been lying, had they?

And suddenly he was tempted.

So tempted.

To take the knife and turn it on himself.

The urge faded away quickly. Why would he want to do that? He had escaped Thanos - he had a life to live again, he had a chance to be something. To prove to them that he was something. Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted? Power, power that would prove to them that he wasn’t weak.

Oh, but… but he was so  _ stupid. _

Had he forgotten? Had his memories fallen away from his mind again, because he wasn’t even strong enough to hold them in place?

Did he forget how weak he was?

If he was given power, he would shrink away from it and have a panic attack, too afraid to pick it up and wield it.

Loki wanted to be angry, still. Wanted to take his magic and burn a raging trail through the valley. 

But it was gone. He didn’t know why, but his anger was gone, and he felt as empty as he had felt without his magic.

His shoulders slumped, his arms fell to his sides. 

And he half-expected to feel a warm hand on his shoulder, to turn and look into Tony’s deep brown eyes. The phantom-sensation made him whirl around instinctively. But it was just his mind playing tricks on him. There was no one there.

()()()

He ate nothing more than the apple.

It wasn’t some sick satisfaction at seeing Tony so angry that made him deny his body’s urge to eat. He just  _ couldn’t.  _ He kept seeing the Chitauri, holding up the piece of red meat.  _ “Eat.” _

And pain like fire.

Again, and again. Whenever they brought him food, he had never known whether it was going to be poisoned or not. And it all looked the same. It all  _ looked  _ and smelled and felt the same, so he had to try it, if he didn’t want to starve to death.  _ He  _ had _ to try it. _

But now he didn’t have to. He wasn’t going to starve to death - if things got dangerous, he was sure he could force himself to eat. That was why he had stolen the food in the first place, so he would always have some available if his condition got worse. And yeah, the lack of food, the lack of energy was just another thing that was preventing his magic from growing strong enough to heal him. But he would rather be injured then have to eat.

He went to his room and began to read a book - one he had stolen from Tony’s bookshelf. It was called Hamlet, and he liked it because the way it was written, and the way the characters spoke, reminded him of how books were written and how people spoke in Asgard.

He paused. Went to the window, opened it, and sent a small amount of magic to the flowers blooming in the valley. Their color became more vibrant, they grew larger, and healthier. And as the magic left Loki’s body, he grew smaller, sicker. Loki did not smile at them. It was a habit, a routine. It felt right, but these weren’t the same flowers.

Then he laid back down on his bed, lying on his stomach, and continued to read.

()()()

Tony knocked on the door, about an hour or two later (Loki had lost track of time).

“Lunch,” he said.

Loki fought the urge to yell at him. He obviously didn’t want it, and if he were to change his mind he was perfectly capable of getting his own lunch. But Tony probably thought him too weak to do that, too.

If he was being unfair, he didn’t care. It felt good to be angry, because anger was much preferable to the other ways he had been feeling lately. Sad. Numb. Afraid. (Pathetic. Weak. Worthless.)

“You don’t have to eat it. I brought it on principle,” Tony said. “I’ll leave it outside.”

Loki didn’t respond.

But once Tony’s footsteps faded, Loki went to the door. He was curious as to what Tony had brought. Maybe there would be something there that wouldn’t taste like nothing. He undeniably was hungry. He hoped he would find something that he could bear to eat.

It was Chinese.

And there was no red meat. Just fried rice and a fortune cookie.

Loki brought it into his room. He poked at the fried rice, but didn’t eat any. He did, however, crack open the fortune cookie.

_ “Change is happening in your life, so go with the flow!” _

He stared blankly at the paper. Why did that exclamation point annoy him so much? Before he even realized what he was doing, the paper was crumpled up in his hand, and a flame crackled into life in his palm, devouring it. 

He clenched his fist, smothering the fire.

And he nibbled on the fortune cookie while he returned to his book and continued to read. Eventually, the whole cookie was gone. There was a lingering sweetness in his mouth, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. Maybe he should ask Tony for another…?

But he didn’t want to face him after what had happened.

He kept humiliating himself in front of him, over and over and over. No matter what he did. If he was near Tony, something similar would happen again. A panic attack or a breakdown or he would forget something and Tony would look at him with pity in his eyes - there was a long list of things that could go wrong and Loki hated it.

He was tired.

He kept rereading the same line over and over. And each time he held the book tighter in his hands, going rigid, glaring at the pages.

Finally, he gave up. He prowled around his room instead, opened all the drawers and closets, looked out the window, went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth because even after so long, there was still the phantom-taste of days upon days of his mouth slowly rotting, that foul taste that made him shudder. And he could have used his magic to accomplish the same thing, but he liked to brush them.

It was so goddamn stupid.

He threw down the toothbrush with a hiss, and used his magic to clean his teeth.

Then he raised his eyes to the mirror.

He looked haggard. And thin. And beaten down. He raised the hem of his shirt, turning just enough to see a bit of his back and… quickly, he lowered it again. When he pulled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, he could see the old, nearly faded bruises dotting his arms.

His magic wasn’t strong enough to heal him yet. Healing magic was difficult, took so much energy. And it didn’t help that Loki kept wasting all his magic’s energy by exploding things, and by using it to keep himself from dying of starvation or sleep-deprivation. No, his magic wasn’t even strong enough to heal a bruise.

But it was definitely strong enough to produce a glamour. He had been doing it since he was an infant. He was an  _ expert. _

And so what if creating a glamour exhausted his magic even further? It would grow again, in time. He would just have to stop exploding trees. And it would be worth it, because the bags under his eyes and the scars and the bruises and - oh, and that horrible, hideous burn on his chest - would all be  _ gone _ .

He didn’t hesitate.

And this glamour was easy, it was one he had done many times before, restoring himself back to health. Almost as easy as pasting white skin over blue.

The bruises were blotted out. The scars disappeared. When he lifted his shirt again, he could no longer see his ribs. His back was undamaged.

His chest. His chest was unmarked.  _ He _ was unmarked. 

But this wouldn’t work. Tony would realize. Surely, he would realize what Loki had done.

Reluctantly, he brought all of his injuries back. And shuddered as he traced the line of a scar, snaking up over his collarbone. He smeared the bruise-like bags beneath his eyes again.

He allowed himself to shrink, once again, in on himself, ribs and collarbone jutting out, the lines of his bones so pronounced. His clothes hung off of him. He looked like a bundle of sticks and he was glad that he wasn’t wearing his old armor for he wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw how oversized it would be for him now… 

He looked frail and withered and dying. And  _ ugly  _ and  _ wrong. _

But not for long. Not for long.

()()()

He didn’t sleep the next night. But he wiped away the bags from his eyes, and the strain from his face. And when Tony eyed him suspiciously and asked Jarvis if he had slept, it was easy to influence his mind just enough to change the words. To change a “No,” to a “Yes.”

He knew Tony would hate him for that. He wouldn’t like to know that Loki had been poking around in his head. But it would be better for both of them. Loki wouldn’t forget, and Tony wouldn’t have nightmares. They would both be happier.

Over the next few days, he slowly added more weight to his glamour, more flesh to its bones, more color to its cheeks. He didn’t eat much in Tony’s presence, but he told him that he was eating when they weren’t together, and Tony believed him. The proof was right there on his body.

And Tony seemed happier now that he thought that Loki was sleeping and eating, and Loki had to repay him  _ somehow _ , so he should do whatever he could to make him happy. It was the least, the very least, he could do. He had been stupid to be angry at him - like an immature child having a tantrum. It had done nothing good for either of them.

But it was easy to pretend like everything was fine. That was always easy. He joked with Tony, he taught him more about magic, he played chess with him. He… he liked Tony’s company. Tony was distracting, always waving his hands around and rambling like his life depended on it. And whenever Loki panicked over some stupid thing, or forgot something - because even though he wasn’t sleeping, his useless mind still couldn’t work right - Tony would take his hand and help him to breathe, or gently remind him of the thing he had forgotten.

It was humiliating, of course.

But he didn’t protest.

But he despised how disgustingly  _ dependent _ he was. Loki couldn’t survive on his own. He would have been killed by SHIELD, of course, but even if not, he would probably be eternally huddled in some dirty corner, crying his eyes out. He couldn’t even survive on his own, which was something he used to be an expert at. 

He wanted to fix that. He wanted to leave again, wanted to go find a place for himself, to prove that he could. But if he left, SHIELD would find him. He was stuck here.

He could have overpowered Tony. Could have used that as a way to prove how strong he was.

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he disregarded it with a grimace.

So he was trapped again. 

Just another cell.

Although this one was comfortable, and less painful, and had much better company.

But he still found himself wandering outside more often, not going far because Tony told him that if he did, SHIELD would be able to track his magic again. He walked around the house in circles, over the hills and through the trees and beside a sluggishly moving river. There were a few frogs there, and once he caught one and cupped it in his hands. He slit its throat with his magic, and watched as its body fell limp, blood pooling in the lines of his hands. He didn’t know why he had done that.

When he was angry, he would practice with his knives. Often, Tony would give him a few minutes to calm down, then he would join him, and Loki would teach him. Tony wasn’t skilled, but he was stubborn, and he  _ was _ learning, albeit very slowly.

Loki liked to teach him how to wield a knife. Because he would touch his hand to adjust his grip, and he never even felt the urge to draw away. The same applied when Loki was panicking, or even if they were just sitting on the couch sometimes, and Tony would take his hand. Loki never flinched, or even felt compelled to. 

Perhaps because the Chitauri had never done anything like that. 

But Tony did.

Even though Loki was so pathetic, so  _ broken _ , Tony would still hold his hand.

And Loki may not feel the urge to flinch, but he did feel the urge to let go. Because he knew Tony wouldn’t touch him if he knew what he was.

But he didn’t let go.

He held on.

()()()

“You know what?” Tony said, one day as he was typing on his laptop. He shut it and stood up from the couch they had both been sitting in, and turned on his heel to stand in front of Loki. “We should go somewhere.”

Loki crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we’re close to Montreal. We could walk around? I looked up stuff to do. And I could take you on a tour!” he cried, leaning back and folding his arms to mimic Loki’s posture. “Please. Let me. Please.”

Loki scratched his head. “Only if you stop acting like an overexcited puppy.”

Tony deadpanned. “Got it.”

They put on their hats and sunglasses, and Tony gave Loki a leather jacket to wear because apparently his sweatshirt wasn’t stylish enough, and hey, last time they met he was all about leather.

They squinted as they left through the too-bright hallway, but in contrast, outside it was dark and stormy. Probably not the best weather to be doing this. But Loki didn’t mind.

“No using your magic, remember,” Tony warned him. “SHIELD’ll find us before you can say ‘Hocus Pocus’.”

They got in Tony’s car and sped away.

()()()

Loki had slept a few times, accidentally, in the past week or so. But he had never slept for long, and each time he woke up more or less with his memory intact. 

However, the motion of the car was soothing, and Tony had cranked the heat up just enough to leave a pleasant warmth on Loki’s skin. He curled up in his seat and slept for the entire two hours.

When he woke up it was to someone shaking him. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up; we’re here.”

He jolted awake, and quickly pressed himself against the armrest, staring wide-eyed at… Tony Stark?

Tony visibly swallowed, looking down. Then he reached out and took hold of Loki’s hand, ever-so-gently. And Loki knew that the Chitauri would never have done anything like that. 

In only a few minutes, he had calmed down. 

“Why are we in the car?” he asked.

“We’re going to Montreal,” Tony said, softy, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m taking you on a tour.”

“Oh,” Loki said, staring blankly out the window. They were parked in front of a row of red trees. “Okay.”

He shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

But he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh wonder how this is gonna go!! Will they have a fun, fluff-filled afternoon or will it end in FIRE and DEATH???


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter like it's a hand grenade and runs*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all spoil me! I’ve got 500 FUCKING KUDOS now!! And 100 bookmarks! And 300 comments! (although about half of those are me replying to other comments but still). I literally love all of you. In a platonic way, of course. lol
> 
> Okay so, for clarification (just gonna put this here because it’s in my head atm, not because it necessarily applies to this chapter) I’m operating under a very specific, convenient set of rules pertaining to Loki’s magic here: basically, glamours are really simple for Loki, they’re practically a part of his biology. So he barely uses any magic for those. Which is why SHIELD can’t track them. They also can’t track the invisibility spell he uses. Or when he lets Tony “feel” his magic (wink wink). Everything else is fair game.
> 
> Also DISCLAIMER: I've never been to Montreal, so don't yell at me - I KNOW that it's all gonna be super inaccurate and guess what...? I don't care. So. 
> 
> I was gonna say something else but I forgot. So... um... enjoy the angst? I guess?

Wow. That drive sucked.  _ So _ much traffic, and Loki just had to go and nod off, so Tony couldn’t even talk to him to entertain himself. But he wasn’t about to wake him up.

It was some weird mountain, and there was supposed to be a road to walk on, and a beautiful view at the top. It was called the “Mont Royal” (which he suspected was a weird French pun on ‘Montreal’), and it was the first thing Tony found when he looked up stuff to do. But they were parked in this random parking lot, and he could see the mountain, but no road.

They got out and he spoke to the first person he saw: a lady with really big sunglasses, spiky hair, and a purse hanging from her arm. “Hey. Which way to the Mont Royal?”

She pointed in a random direction and started jibbering in French.

“Oh. Uh. I don’t speak French,” Tony tried, waving his hands through the air to tell her to shut up.

But then Loki joined them, and started spewing the language, and he was having a fucking conversation with that lady and all Tony could do was stare and think,  _ Loki speaks French? What the fuck? _

Loki said something, and then they both laughed, of course, because apparently now he was a comedian. He bowed slightly to her as she walked away, and she giggled and smiled at him before glancing at Tony, and  _ glaring _ at him, and walking away.

“What the fuck,” Tony said. He turned towards Loki, who was grinning mischievously, watching her go. “You speak French? And did you just flirt with a random French woman?”

“No need to be so jealous,” Loki said, amusement clear in his voice. His grin grew when he looked at Tony’s face. “Oh, you should see yourself.”

Well, it was no surprise that Tony looked a little shocked. Loki had just accused him of being jealous that he was hitting it off with a random girl in Quebec. And he could  _ speak French?  _ But Tony quickly deadpanned, crossed his arms, and lowered his sunglasses just enough to let Loki see his eyes and his raised eyebrow. “I’m just surprised you would go after a middle-aged French woman with atrocious hair - didn’t think that your type. But hey.” He shrugged. “Who am I to judge.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, with a small smirk, before turning on his heel and stalking away. “This way!” he called out, pointing.

They walked for a few blocks, and Tony grew increasingly nervous that they were going to be recognized, but luckily, everyone were as oblivious in this city as they were in good ‘ol New York. 

The Mont Royal was crowded with people, but Loki walked on the very edge of the road, and Tony walked on his left, doing his best to shield him from everyone. But Loki still seemed to be nervous anyway, crossing his arms tightly, eyes darting around.

Tony held his hand up for Loki to take.

And Loki stared at him.

“Go on,” Tony said. “S’fine. No one here gives a shit.”

So Loki took his hand, and they walked the Mont Royal, so close to each other that their shoulders brushed.

It was beautiful. At the top, they could see the city sprawled out before them - skyscrapers reaching up to the sky, roads cluttered with traffic, red and yellow trees popping out in bursts of color. It fell away into a river that ran off into the horizon. The air was frigid and fresh, almost reminding Tony of the feeling of magic coursing through his body. 

Tony took out his phone and took a picture. 

And when he looked and saw Loki - brow slightly furrowed, god-awful haircut falling messily away from the baseball cap he was wearing, with the city reflected in the thin-rimmed aviator sunglasses that weren’t dark enough to completely obscure his eyes - Tony wanted to take a picture of him. Even of the fading bruises that bloomed on his jawbone, and his cheek, yellow and green on the edges. Even those.

Loki looked back at him.

And Tony was hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand.

And this was ridiculous. Loki had attacked New York, he had killed people, he had thrown Tony out a window!

But somehow, all that anger that he should have felt was nowhere to be found. It had been missing for a long time, hadn’t it? Had it gone sometime this past week, perhaps, while they were watching a movie or eating together? Maybe one of the times Loki forgot something, or had a panic attack, and Tony felt a familiar pang of sympathy, of  _ caring _ in his chest? Even when Tony discovered that Loki wasn’t sleeping, all because he wanted so badly to hold onto his memories?

Or had it fled from him at that very first moment, in the SHIELD cell, when he caught sight of that familiar figure huddled in the corner, bruised and bleeding and panicking at the mere sight of him?

Loki squeezed his hand and pointed upwards, at two hawks that were circling through the sky, screeching and slashing at each other with their talons. Tony glanced at them, but was much more captivating by the awe in Loki’s eyes, and the smile on his face that couldn’t be anything but genuine.

Then someone grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and slammed a fist into the side of his head with a force that sent him reeling back into Loki. He coughed and sputtered and flailed, lashing out vaguely at the place where his attacker had been.

Loki lowered him gently on the ground, and Tony watched, head spinning, as he pounced like a cat and shoved the person to the ground, landing elegantly on top of them, practically straddling them except his knee was shoved in their stomach, and Tony didn’t think anyone wanted to be straddled that way. Loki wrapped his hands around their neck and started to squeeze.

Fuck fuck fuck.

People started screaming and running away, leaving a wide circle with just Loki and Tony’s attacker in the middle of it. But then someone came out of the crowd, yelling something in French and brandishing a gun and  _ shit _ , it was a policeman.

And wouldn’t that be hilarious if Loki, a fucking Norse god with magical superpowers, got arrested by a normal human policeman and put in a normal earth prison? It was such a weird thought.

But Tony quickly stopped thinking it, because now the policeman and a few other random burly men who thought it was their place to break up Canadian attacker vs. Norse god fights were approaching Loki. Tony could clearly see the panic in his eyes, which was never a good thing when it came to Loki and explosive magical powers.

Loki stood up, with a green light building around his hands, and Tony barely had time to scramble away, screaming at everyone to get the fuck out of there, when everything erupted in a green that was too bright to be real, burning that brightness onto the inside of his eyelids. It sounded like a crack of thunder. He felt a strong wind, a gust that made him shiver because it was so cold. And when it was all gone, there was a crater in the road, and the figures of the four men who had been thrown away by it. They were all lying on the ground, and they were all disturbingly still.

Tony didn’t think. He pressed down on the bracelets he always wore, and the metal of his suit folded over his skin.

And now everyone was screaming even louder.

He grimaced.

And his feet left the ground in a flare of fire. He swooped down, grabbed Loki, and rose back up again, soaring over the city. Holding Loki tightly to his chest.

And now they had to get the fuck out of Montreal. There wouldn’t even be time to go back to the house and get their stuff. But how was he supposed to land without everyone seeing him? The suit wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

Shit, shit, shit, he was such an idiot - should have worn a better disguise, should have known someone would recognize him, should have known should have known should have--

“Jarvis,” he said. “Nearest safe house. Where no one can find us.”

**The nearest uncompromised safe house is on the Yucatan Peninsula. There is another in Alaska. The rest would be inadvisable to travel to in this situation.**

Shit. Both of those were so far away. How the hell were they going to get there without being discovered?

“Tony!” he heard Loki yell. Tony looked to what Loki was pointing at.

Shit.

A quinjet. A fucking quinjet was soaring through the sky like the ugliest bird Tony had ever seen.

He dove to the side, swooped down over the river, picked a random direction and flew in it. 

Lightning cracked through the sky, and Tony saw Loki stiffen in his arms. He also saw Loki press his hand to Tony’s chest.

“Jarvis. Get me a map of the surrounding area.”

It came up in a bright mess of muddled up lines, and he had to alternate between looking at the map and focusing on where he was flying, which was annoying. But they were quickly nearing the edge of the city. Oh, and the quinjet was following them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

How the hell had they gotten here so quickly?

But he had forgotten how stalkerish and creepy SHIELD was. They had bases all over the fucking world - of course they would happen to have one thirty fucking seconds from where Tony and Loki had been trying to enjoy a nice fucking day in the city before that motherfucker clocked him in the nose.

Why had he ever thought that leaving the house was a good idea? He was the Iron Viper now, and Loki was  _ Loki _ , and they were both in the news and everyone was searching for them - and people were paranoid, because in their minds, ex-super heroes and crazed super villains hanging out together was never a good combination (although, strangely, it seemed that it was a very nice combination).

But he would have time to feel guilty later.

“Jarvis,” he said. He forgot what he had been about to say next, because the quinjet started shooting at them.

He wrapped his arms around Loki, hugging him to his chest, trying to shield him. Loki’s eyes were wide and scared, his chest heaving frantically.

“Don’t worry,” he said, hoping that Loki would be able to catch the attempt at a comforting tone, although he knew his words would come out robotic and emotionless. “They’re incompetent. There’s no way that their bulky quinjet will be a match for this elegant beauty I’m wearing.”

He couldn’t tell if his words had had any effect.

And anyway, now he was swerving to avoid the bullets that kept hitting him. He hunched closer to Loki, trying to protect him, but he could feel Loki stiffen in his grasp, could see blood flowing from his arm, although he didn’t make a sound.

And Tony was not going to stand for that. 

He reached back and fired a repulsor blast at the quinjet. And another. And another. 

The thing gave a scream of agony, and started to smoke, giving a final shudder before spiraling downwards. He stopped flying to watch its descent - like a drunk bird trying to land. It fell into the water with a crash. He wondered if everyone within had died.

“Hold on,” he said.

Loki wrapped his arms around his neck. And Tony supported him with an arm around his waist.

Then he took off again, in a burst of fire. Away from the city. And soon after, they were out of that entire fucking country, soaring recklessly over the ocean.

**Sir. It is inadvisable to try to reach Mexico via your suit. Power levels are at fifty percent.**

“Fine!” Tony yelled.

Loki was clearly startled by his outburst, but Tony was so on edge that he couldn’t bring himself to care. He kept glancing over his shoulder, searching for a quinjet even though Jarvis’s map was clearly showing him that no one was following them. 

And now what the hell were they supposed to do? How would they get to Mexico?

“Tony!” Loki shrieked. “ _ Tony!” _

There was a red dot approaching on the map. Approaching much too quickly for comfort. Tony glanced back, and a burst of crackling lightning burned itself onto his retinas. 

“Hold on,” he said, going into a sharp dive. He twisted in midair, throwing out his hand and shooting, but he couldn’t see anything but the lightning that was still coming after them, writhing, dancing in the air. 

Loki threw his arms out, and Tony yelled at him not to use his magic, but an explosion of green burst to life in front of them anyway. Loki’s magic crackled with silver lightning. Everything was noise and electricity and power, floating there ahead of him. He allowed himself to fall, down and far and away from it all, clutching Loki closely to his chest.

Then Thor broke through that madness, his eyes white, his hammer held high above his head. He brought it down with a  _ crack _ that echoed through Tony’s very bones. Lightning was flung from it in a writhing, forked tongue, hissing as it flew to devour them. All he could do was watch as Loki thrashed in his grip, letting his magic loose with a scream. 

And Tony might have been screaming too, because this didn’t feel like a wind. This felt like a hurricane.

Everything exploded again in a burst of energy and light. Tony was too dazed to even move. 

Loki fell back into Tony’s arms. Limp and still like a corpse.

Thor’s hammer was heading straight towards them, about to smash into Loki’s chest, and at the last moment Tony turned in midair so it struck him in the back. But that didn’t prevent Thor’s hand from clamping down on his shoulders, or the hammer from turning around in midair and hurtling back to land with a clang in Thor’s hand.

And just as the ocean was rising up to meet them, Thor spun his hammer, creating a ring of bright whirling light, and they took off back into the sky.

()()()

Thor took them to a deserted strip of beach somewhere, dropping them down in the sand. He was saying something, but Tony ignored him, instead lowering his face plate to shout in a high and panicked voice, “Loki! Loki! Can you hear me?” He laid Loki down in the sand with shaking hands, reaching out to touch his face before Thor grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“I need you to…”

“What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?” Tony cried, quickly becoming hysterical. He could feel his hands shaking. Without pausing to think, he let his suit peel away from him so he could hunch over Loki, so he could feel him, looking desperately for some sign that he was alive.

He was breathing. His chest was rising and falling. 

Tony let out a sigh of relief, but it was so shaky that it sounded like he was hyperventilating. He rubbed his palms over his face, feeling like he was about to throw up.

Then Thor crouched down in front of him, holding his hammer up threateningly. “You will tell me what my brother did to you. He is unconscious; you don’t have to be afraid that he will hurt you. Tell me, and I can help you.”

Tony stared at him, unable to process what he was saying. “No. No, no, shut the fuck up. He’s… you just hit us with  _ lightning _ … what the hell is wrong with you?” He would have gotten to his feet and backed away, if it weren’t for Loki, who was lying there so quietly, unresponding, so quiet and still…

Tony leaned down, gently touching his face. “Loki. Loki! It’s me, it’s Tony, I’m right here…”

Thor reached down to touch Loki.

And Tony shoved his hand away, “Don’t you fucking touch him!” He scooted backwards, his feet scrabbling for a hold in the sand, pulling Loki along, hugging him to his chest. He eyed his unfolded suit regretfully; he shouldn’t have taken it off. But it hadn’t done much good against Thor anyway.

“Tony. You don’t have to protect him. I will  _ help _ you,” Thor said, sounding like he was talking to a child. He reached out a hand in the same placating gesture Tony had used for Loki, so many times.

Tony stared at him. How were they going to get away from Thor? He didn’t know how far away SHIELD was, but it couldn’t be long before they got here… and this time, there was no chance that Tony would be able to get Loki out of there.

Then Loki groaned, twisting in his grip, hands going to where Tony was holding him so tightly.

Instantly, Tony was saying his name, over and over again, and pulling him even closer to his chest, despite Loki’s feeble attempts to get away. Thor was eyeing them warily, and Tony hated that he probably thought Tony was only doing this out of fear, not because he actually cared. 

But when Loki caught sight of Thor, everything fell apart.

He writhed in Tony’s grip, kicking and punching, and a fist caught Tony in the jaw. Tony hunched over him, trying to soothe him, but when Loki looked into his eyes there was nothing there but fear. 

His gaze snapped back to Thor, and he was kicking at the sand, trying to back away. He was speaking wildly in that other language that Tony didn’t know, but his voice was thin, trembling, desperate. He was pleading. 

Green energy built up around him, and Tony held him tighter in a futile attempt to keep him from teleporting but the energy built upwards and upwards until… nothing. 

It built up again, spiraling higher. Nothing.

And Loki kept trying to teleport, over and over, thrashing in Tony’s grip, all while his terrified eyes were locked onto Thor. “I can’t,” Tony heard him say. “Don’t make me.  _ Please _ .” That was all he managed to speak in English before babbling in that other tongue again.

Thor, who was standing now, stared down at him and tentatively reached out before pulling his hand back again. “What’s wrong with him?” 

But Loki seemed to be calming down now. His eyes were blank instead of scared, his breathing was quickly evening out. He had stopped struggling. 

So, slowly, Tony lessened his grip. And slowly, he let him go.

Loki wrapped his arms around his chest. Silent tears were streaming down his face. But still, he managed to get into a kneeling position in front of Thor, much too close for comfort, watering eyes full of dread, and in between painful, heart-wrenching sobs, he started to reach for Thor’s belt buckle.

“What is he doing?” Thor asked, jumping backwards.

Tony grabbed Loki’s hand, gently, and turned his head so he was looking away from Thor. But it was too easy. Too easy to move him, to turn his head, as if he was just a collection of body parts instead of a person, pliable and pushable. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, Lokes, you don’t… you don’t have to do that.”

“Tony,” Loki said, more like he was letting out a breath than saying a word.

“Yes. Yes!” Tony said, taking both of his hands and holding them tightly. “It’s me. It’s just me. No one’s gonna hurt you, no one’s gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

But Loki’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenched, his breaths came sharply. “ _ Ég vissi að þú værir lygari!”  _ he shouted, harshly, wrenching his hands away from Tony. “ _ Ég vissi að þú værir ekki raunverulegur!” _

Tony held his hands up, although he knew the gesture wouldn’t have the desired effect. “What’s he saying?” he demanded to Thor.

Thor stared back at him, wide-eyed. “He says… he says he knew you were a liar. And that he knew you weren’t real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap... well... that certainly didn't go well. Their date ended in fire and death. But I'm sure you all mostly expected that, going by how well I've done at writing fluff so far. But none of this was actually intended, lol, like this wasn’t the plan when I was writing this - I WANTED it to be happy, but of course the the fluff lasted for about 2.5 seconds and descended into angst-filled plot development because I can’t write happy things.
> 
> The part at the end where Loki reaches up for Thor’s belt was inspired by The Ugly Truth by Milli. There’s a scene where a very, very similar thing happens except it’s Tony instead of Thor and fuck… there’s like five scenes, from all of fanfiction that are permanently stuck in my brain because they traumatized me so much/made me super depressed because they were so fucking sad and… well, that’s one of them (and yeah, I can give you a list. Because there's actually probably way more than five. And they're almost all involving Loki or Tony... because I'm obsessed.) 
> 
> Also, once again, I apologize to Iceland… if any of you speak Icelandic, hmu with an actual translation, lol.
> 
> Oh and I'm writing a lil somethin somethin for a contest on ff.net... but I'm basically using the contest as an excuse to write some Loki whump I was already planning on writing. It's a drabble contest, and I've never done those before, so I'm planning on posting them here first and using y'all as my test subjects to see what you think and THEN posting it over there. So, anyway, check back on my profile occasionally so you don't miss when I post. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUESS WHAT I DID.  
> I wrote the climax (hehe) of this FUCKING THING. Holy SHITBALLS. And I got super excited and decided to post this even though it's only been two days and I don't have another chapter already beta read in advance because OH MY GOD!!! I'm so happyyyyy!  
> I've never finished anything long, but it actually looks like I'm gonna finish this (because come on, it's not as if I'm gonna leave it hanging after I've already written the fucking climax) and I'm so dang EXCITED AHHHH.  
> Anywayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
> 
> Well, Thor is here now… I guess. Being awkward.  
> And Loki had some serious self-esteem issues, and a tendency to throw temper tantrums, and a hell of a lot of pent-up anger. And he still can’t quite figure out why Tony would bother to care about him - poor guy.  
> So that’s fun.
> 
> Thanks for your comments as always!! ILY!!
> 
> Song: Darlin’ by Goodbye June. Easily one of my favorite songs - the first time I heard it it made me cry. Which is what I hope this chapter does to you! >:)\
> 
> ENJOY THE ANGST MY LOVELIES!!

“What?” Tony asked, even though he should have already known.

That first night in Minnesota. Loki’s nightmare hadn’t been just a nightmare, had it?

_ Just like last time. When you pretended to be Thor. _

Tony wished that he didn’t know what that meant. What all of this meant. But it wasn’t like it was difficult to fill in the blanks.

No one answered him. Thor was clueless, of course, but Loki… Loki didn’t look like he was in any condition to string coherent sentences together. He was huddled there, shaking and shivering with silent tears streaming down his face, but that wasn’t the scariest thing.

He was gone.

Just gone.

Every time before when Loki had been having a panic attack, there had still been that  _ rage _ hidden in his eyes. The flexing of his fingers, the sharp intake of breath, hating his condition and doing everything he could to come out of it.

But this time, there was nothing.

Other than the terror, that is.

And Tony didn't know what to do. He wanted desperately to comfort him in some way, to speak to him - although he wasn't sure that Loki would even hear him. He wanted to take his hand, no, he wanted to hug him, but that would only scare him.

"You're his brother," Tony snapped at Thor, deciding to let the decision fall to someone else. "Do something!"

But Thor seemed just as lost as he was.

And that was when the SHIELD helicopter appeared beyond the line of trees, with a loud, stuttered drone assaulting Tony’s ears and several guns pointed out of its windows, aimed down at them.

And Thor - thank God - finally did something.

He grabbed Loki and Tony with one arm, and swung his hammer with the other, shooting off into the sky.

()()()

With some directions from Tony, they were able to find their way to his safe house in Mexico. And it was actually really fucking cool - disguised as a old storage facility, all tin and solid, boring blue, but the roof flipped up into a swanky deck surrounded by solar panels. He must have been in one of his philanthropist moods when he built it, back in the day when he had given a damn about global warming.

But he wasn't in the mood to appreciate it.

They tramped inside, Thor pulling them along with a meaty hand on both of their arms, and a very grim expression on his face. Loki was somehow crying while simultaneously looking unsettlingly expressionless, like a zombie. Tony was just freaking out.

It was actually nice to have Thor holding his arm. Tony wasn't sure that he could have managed to walk otherwise.

Tony directed them to the hospital wing, which was smaller in this safe house but that didn't really matter because there was still only one patient - although by the time this was over, Tony should probably get himself checked into a psychiatric ward and stay there for a long fucking while - and Tony pulled his arm away from Thor so he could help him gently push Loki down into a sitting position on the edge of one of the beds.

If Loki was scared of Tony, he was obviously terrified of Thor. He hadn't taken his eyes off of him once.

"Um... sorry, bud," Tony began, glancing at Thor, not sure how to breach the subject.

"I know," Thor said, surprising him. He looked solemn, even serious, which was not a look Tony was used to seeing on his face. "I'll go."

And he left.

Well, that was easy.

Tony knew that Loki would probably feel safer if he was gone, too, but he... fuck, he didn't want to leave him here all alone.

He crouched down, a few feet from the bed Loki was sitting in, and covered his face with his hands. So he wouldn’t have to see the way Loki was looking at him. So he could pretend not to notice that Loki wasn’t just terrified of Thor, he was terrified of Tony right now, too.

They had… they had been having so much  _ fun. _ Loki had been smiling, he had been  _ happy. _

Tony wanted to cross over to the bed and grab him and  _ shake _ him until he remembered.

**Given his current condition, I think it would be advisable to leave Mr. Odinson alone.**

Tony peeked through his fingers, sighed, and lowered his hands. “I’ll come back,” he promised.  _ No, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say.  _ “You’re safe,” Tony said. “You’re safe. No one will hurt you. I won’t  _ let _ anyone hurt you.”

When Loki heard his words, his eyes widened, and Tony swore he got even worse.

He remembered that first day, when Loki had started panicking, forcing Tony to drug him to make him go to sleep so he could fix his injuries. He had only started panicking  _ after _ Tony promised he wouldn’t hurt him.

(No time to figure that out now. Just get the hell out already, you’re just making everything worse.)

So he did. He left Loki alone. For the second time, he left him to panic on his own.

()()()

Unsurprisingly, he was met with a violent barrage of questions, accompanied by the lingering threat of the hammer in Thor's hand, which was pointed at his head.

And Tony did he best to answer, all while saving Loki as much dignity as he possibly could - not that Tony thought any of Loki's reactions to what had been done to him had lost him dignity, but he thought Loki might feel that way. He told Thor how he had broken Loki out of the SHIELD cell - although Thor had already known that - and when Thor asked him why, Tony simply said that it was the right thing to do.

He skimmed through their subsequent misadventures, leaving out the panic attacks, memory lapses, eating problems, sleep deprivation, all that lovely stuff. If Loki wanted Thor to know, then he could tell him himself. Thor listened gravely, his expression unchanging, his grip on his hammer unwavering, which Tony did not appreciate.

And really, when he left out all the shitty parts, it was a very sparse story. Not much substance to it. 

And he hated that.

"But what happened back on the beach?" Thor asked, hesitantly. "Has he been like that before? I mean... what's wrong with him? He isn't usually..." Thor trailed off, which Tony didn't remember him ever doing before, and waved his hammer through the air, very nearly missing Tony's nose.

"Nothing's  _ wrong  _ with him," Tony said, remembering his own panic attacks.

"Yes, there is," Thor said, indignantly, as if he thought Tony was insulting him. "Do you think I didn't notice? It was fairly obvious," he ended the word with a laugh so out of place that it might as well have been a red dress at a funeral.

Tony crossed his arms. This was so fucking uncomfortable, and it was bringing up many traumatic memories that he would rather push down, down, down into the deepest part of his mind, somewhere.

"Let's sit down," he said. "I'll pour us a drink."

It wasn't whisky, because felt wrong to share that drink with someone other than Loki. As if, in the short time that he was gone, Tony had already replaced him with someone else. So instead he got them both bottles of beer, and Thor, unsurprisingly, downed his in about three gulps, which took about five seconds.

"Jesus," Tony said, flatly. He didn't elaborate.

Thor set the bottle down with a glimmer of humor in his eyes that quickly disappeared when Tony braced himself and said, "He was tortured, Thor."

And damn, if that didn't bring down the mood from frosty to frozen-absolutely-fucking-solid.

Thor's grip tightened on the beer bottle he was still holding, and his eyes went back and forth, searching Tony's face. Then, against all the odds - actually, against everything that had ever, or would ever, make a lick of sense, he broke into a smile, and awkward laughter. "No. No, you're lying. Not my brother. He couldn't..." and just as soon, his smile and his laughter disappeared, probably because of the look on Tony's face. "He wasn't...? Stark, how could..." he pressed a hand to the side of his face, his eyes going to the bottle in his hand. "No, no, not my brother."

"I'm sorry," Tony said. He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but at least it was something.

He had assumed that Thor would have already figured it out. After all, after witnessing such a drastic change in his brother, shouldn’t it have been evident what happened? It had been to Tony, and he had barely known Loki at the time.

But no, apparently not. And Tony was unfortunately able to witness a multitude of terrible emotions crossing Thor's face - grief, regret, anger, sadness, pity. Then back to regret, and the vicious cycle started all over again.

What had Loki seen in Tony's face, when he first told him what happened? It was a strange thought.

And how was Loki now? What was he doing? Was he getting any better, was he remembering things, or did he think that Tony was... was some creature, one of those Chitauri? Was that what Thanos had done to him - plastered Thor's body on one of those monsters, and tricked Loki into thinking that his brother had come to save him? But, if Loki’s reaction was anything to go by, it had tortured and probably raped him instead.

It was sick.

It was _ sick. _

Tony clenched his fists, overcome with a wave of anger so intense that it surprised even him.

Thor had dropped his head into his hands, but now he glanced up. “But why was he so afraid of  _ me _ ?” he asked. 

Tony looked up at the ceiling, and hesitated for what was probably a suspiciously long moment before saying, “I’m sure he just wasn’t expecting to see you. After all, the only person he’s been around for the last week has been me.”

Thor buried his face in his hands again. “Aye,” he said, sounding miserable.

And it was harder to guess at the source of this new distress, but Tony figured it out after a couple of seconds. He reached across the table and put a hand on Thor’s shoulder, which prompted Thor to peek out through his fingers at Tony. “It’s not your fault that you weren’t there,” Tony said. “How could you have known? I’m sure he won’t blame you for not knowing.”

“But I should have been there,” Thor said, taking his hands down from his face and clenching them into fists on the table. Tony crossed his arms again - probably as some kind of coping mechanism, but he didn’t care. “I’m his brother. I’m supposed to be there for him.”

“You are now.”

Their eyes met.

Thor looked away first.

Then Tony stood up. Thor’s eyes snapped back to his. And Tony smiled sadly, sticking his hands in his pockets because he was unsure what to do with them. “I think we’ve left him on his own long enough. Should we go see him?”

He didn’t know if that was the right thing to do. Should they leave Loki alone longer? Should they have left him alone at all?

But Thor nodded in response, and they both headed back to the hospital room anyway.

()()()

Tony went in first. Thor was obviously reluctant to allow this, but he agreed without arguing or complaining.

Before going in, Tony asked Jarvis about Loki’s condition. Jarvis told him that Loki was huddled up in the corner. Which Tony had expected, but he still  _ hated _ it, because that wasn’t how Loki should be.

He remembered the warmth of Loki’s hand in his as they walked the Mont Royal, in those precious few moments before he got punched in the face and everything spiraled out of control. Loki was still in there somewhere. They could get him back.

So Tony looked back at Thor, who met his gaze unflinchingly and offered him a small, curt nod. Then he opened the door and slipped inside.

The room was a disaster. Everything was scorched to black, everything was thrown to the ground and in pieces. All of the mirrors were shattered, shards littering the ground like crystals. The carpet crunched when he stepped on it. It looked like a fiery hurricane had been through here, and Tony barely recognized the room.

Something exploded in the ceiling. Tony jumped to the right just in time, as a piece of the ceiling came crashing down, followed by a cloud of sawdust that made him cough. The air whipped past his face, too fast for this room - it felt like he was driving down the freeway without a windshield. Magic?

And when he heard the little whimper coming from the corner of the room, he looked up, to see Loki wrapped in a burnt blanket, holding tightly to a scorched pillow, and Tony’s heart gave a pang of sympathy in his chest. 

“Loki…?” Tony said, then stopped. He hadn’t expected his voice to come out like  _ that. _ So small, and timid, and so  _ sad. _

He came a few steps closer, and Loki watched him closely, but without that sharp suspicion that he had shown earlier. Now he just looked tired.

“It’s just me,” Tony said. “I’m real. I’m Tony. I won’t… I just want to help you.”

Loki was silent for a moment. “Your first girlfriend,” he said. 

“What?” Tony asked. He crouched down to be at eye level with Loki. “What are you talking about?”

Loki sucked in a sharp breath at the question, but then shook his head slightly, forcing out a slow exhale. “Her name. Tell me her name.”

Tony hesitated, caught off guard. But, dutifully, he thought back to his first girlfriend - a skinny rod of a girl, back in the sixth grade, with bright blue eyes and an incessant use of the word ‘like.’ “Her name was Sarah,” he said. 

“Last name.”

“Johnson.”

“Tell me something about her.”

“We had our first kiss in the back of her brother’s van,” Tony said. “He was driving us to school; had to stop to get gas. We were friends since fourth grade, and suddenly we were both just leaning in.”

Loki blinked, his eyes focused on a random patch of carpet. “Your mother’s name.”

Tony didn’t hesitate. “Maria.”

“Tell me something about her.”

Tony hesitated.

Loki looked up sharply, his eyes meeting Tony’s. “Now,” he said, somehow able to appear threatening even when he was wrapped up in a blanket. 

“She was… a scientist, like my father. She always wore her hair tied back.”

“Something else.”

Tony swallowed. He lowered himself from his crouching position to sit cross-legged on the floor. “She liked to play piano. Old stuff, from when I was a kid. We would… sing along to it. Unabashedly off-key,” he allowed himself to smile. “My dad hated it.” 

Perhaps Loki’s eyes softened, or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. But he did shift into a more relaxed position, his grip on the pillow lessening. “Sing one.”

So Tony did.

His voice was shaking, and he kept having to stop to take deep breaths and wipe away the tears that were welling up in his eyes, but he made it through the song. Loki watched him steadily, his eyes showing no emotion even as Tony’s wouldn’t stop watering.

When the song was finished, Tony looked down at his hands, feeling awkward. He licked his lips - his throat was dry. And his heart felt heavy.

“You should go now,” Loki said.

A pang of disappointment hit him painfully in the chest, but Tony didn’t argue. However, before he opened the door to leave, he turned back and asked, “Is it all right if Thor comes in?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Tony said. And he left Loki there, alone.  _ Again. _

()()()

Tony told Thor that Loki had asked him some questions. He also told Thor that Loki didn’t want him to come in, and that if Thor tried to, Tony would blast him to oblivion.

That was all he was able to bring himself to say before he collapsed onto the couch, suddenly feeling exhausted, and let his head drop back against the pillows. He stared vacantly at the ceiling with his arms crossed.

He felt the couch cushion sink as Thor sat next to him.

Thor’s gaudy red cape was draped over the couch cushions, and his hair was draped over his gaudy red cape. He was a bulky, awkward presence, and it was strange because for so long it had just been Tony and Loki, and neither of them were nearly as big as Thor was. It felt off, having him there.

“Has it happened before?” Thor asked. “You know… him running away and cowering in the corner.”

Tony leaned forward, bent over his clasped hands, but didn’t look at Thor. “It’s called a panic attack,” he snapped. He didn’t know why he was so angry. “It’s not cowering.”

“Yes, but…” 

Tony glanced sharply at Thor. “Spit it out.”

“I’ve never seen him do anything like that before. All that…” he heard Thor swallow. “Crying. And acting like he couldn’t breathe. Usually, he would avoid such a display of weakness.”

Abruptly, Tony stood up. He whirled around to face Thor, clenching his fists tightly because otherwise he was going to end up punching him. “He isn’t weak.  _ This _ ,” Tony waved his hand vaguely. “Does  _ not _ make him weak.”

Then he stalked to the fridge, flung it open, grabbed a beer and ripped the cap off, drinking in huge gulps even though he didn’t like the taste and didn’t want to be drunk right now. 

“They thought he was brainwashing you, or abusing you in some way. Forcing you to be his ally. Some people thought you had helped him willingly - Rogers is one of them. Barton too. But not me, because…” he heard Thor suck in a breath, but he didn’t look away from the bottle in his hand. “I don’t recognize him anymore. He used to play tricks. But in these past years, he has stopped playing.”

“And?”

“How can you be so sure that this is not just another, crueler form of manipulation?”

Tony’s knuckles were white around the neck of the bottle.

And his first instinct was to snap at Thor, to be angry at him for not seeing something that was so fucking obvious. Of  _ course _ Loki wasn’t manipulating him. Tony could trust him.  _ Did _ trust him.

But Thor didn’t know that.

And it was hard to explain. Because he didn’t want to tell Thor anything that Loki wouldn’t want him to know, but how could he explain what he had felt when he saw him in that cell, that burning, horrible knowledge in the back of his mind?

Tony had been tortured, too. And perhaps that was where that understanding came from, and perhaps that was what Thor couldn’t see.

Add to that all Loki and he had been through together - only a little more than a week, but it felt so much longer. Loki had made so much progress, and Tony was certain that they had started to grow somewhat close...

All undone in mere moments by Thor’s presence.

The beer was bad, but Tony suspected it tasted worse than it actually was. He set loudly on the counter and let out an irritated huff of a breath. He remained standing there with his eyes on the bottle, trying to think of an answer that would satisfy Thor, because if he thought Loki was manipulating Tony and went and tattled to SHIELD, Tony would never forgive himself.

But what answer could he give?

Loki  _ had _ manipulated him. Had lied to him, to get his magic back. And he had used that magic to escape. 

What proof did Tony have that he wouldn’t do something like that again?

“Stark,” Thor said, probably getting impatient.

“Just… trust me on this. Okay?” Tony turned to him. “Just trust me.” It wasn’t enough, but what else could he say?

Thor didn’t reply.

()()()

An hour or so later, Tony decided that Loki was probably hungry. 

And he would have to bring him some food.

And no, it was  _ not _ an excuse to see him, to check on him in some way other than looking at the footage Jarvis had pulled up for him. Although, that would definitely be a weight off his chest, and probably relieve a bit of the anxiety he was feeling, at least for a little while.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, leaning his head against it. “Loki?”

From the other side, he heard something that was like a cross between a hiccup and a laugh. And, perhaps, a sob.

“Can I come in?” Tony asked.

“Of course you can,” Loki said. There was a bitterness in his voice that hinted at a double-meaning there somewhere, but Tony didn’t dwell on it, because he was too busy opening the door and sighing in relief when the room wasn’t scorched any worse than it had been earlier, and Loki was sitting with his legs flat to the ground instead of pulled up to his chest. The pillow was lying in his lap, and his hands clenched on it, perhaps unknowingly, when Tony entered, but that was the only sign that anything was wrong.

“Lunch,” Tony said. “Well, actually.” He checked his watch. “It’s four. So, dinner?”

He crossed the room and set the plate a few feet from Loki, then reconsidered, picked it up again, and set it down next to him. Loki eyed him with something like amusement. He took his hands off the pillow and crossed them inelegantly on top of it, dropping his head back with a  _ thud _ against the wall. “Look at you.”

“What?”

Loki laughed. “Look at you!”

Tony paused, in the middle of standing up. Then he dropped to one knee, resting his elbow on the other. “What are you talking about?”

Loki flinched, minutely, but Tony immediately straightened, adding a few extra inches of distance between them.

Loki waved his hand vaguely, casually, through the air. “You wish I was a machine. Don’t you? No matter if you’re a Chitauri or not, either way, you wish that  _ this _ ,” he gestured at the food, “Would work.” He eyed it with distaste. “You wish you could destroy me. Or,” he said, cocking his head to the side in thought. “You wish you could fix me. And you  _ hate _ that you can’t.” He grinned widely, but it disappeared a moment after, as if it had never been there. He jumped up into a crouch, put both hands on the walls that met at his back, and pushed himself towards Tony. “Whatever game this is. Whatever lie.” He shook his head. “It didn’t work.  _ Do you hear me?” _ he shouted, baring his teeth, and Tony jerked backwards, almost falling over.

“Loki…”

A fire burst to life in Loki’s hands, burning two smoldering holes in the wall. Tony stumbled to his feet, putting his hands up to shield himself. 

Slowly, Loki stood up. In the most threatening way it was physically possible to stand up, of course. He stalked towards Tony, raising his arms as he did so, his eyes dark. It reminded Tony of the Loki who had attacked New York, the one who had thrown him out a window.

“We said we wouldn’t hurt each other, remember?” Tony burst out, eyeing Loki’s flaming hands. 

Loki changed direction, now pacing around Tony. Tony turned in circles, watching him. Abruptly, Loki stopped and clapped his hands together, smothering the flame. “How many, Stark?”

“What?”

Loki looked to the ground, then back up at Tony. “How many did I kill? How many Midgardians? Answer quickly.”

Tony swallowed. He scratched his chin, and he folded his arms, tapping his foot against the ground. “One hundred eighty-nine. One hundred and eight-nine people died.”

Loki raised his chin, which was unnecessary because he was already much taller than Tony. Then he spun on his heel, pacing in the opposite direction. “I should have asked you before. It would have saved me a great deal of needless worry.”

Tony watched him silently.

Loki waved a hand towards him. “Yes, Stark. There were one hundred and eighty-nine. And that means that you must be real. It is more proof than mere facts about your mother would ever be. Do you want to know why?” he spun towards Tony, and met his eyes directly. It was one of the most intimidating periods of eye contact that Tony had ever experienced. And he opened his mouth to answer, but Loki cut him off. “Because Thanos would never have bothered to count.”

He started to pace again.

“I should have asked you earlier. Asking questions was always easy for me. Did you know that? It’s true.” He didn’t smile, but there was a hint of one in his voice. “I was always annoying everyone, with my endless inquiries on magic and warfare and why my favorite babbling old ancient scholars hadn’t written more books. But of course, I don’t often do such a monotonous thing as asking questions anymore.

“And, oh, Stark, how I used to wield my magic… I was one of the most skilled mages in all of Asgard, or that’s what I told myself. Fire and light and nuance, or so I thought. It was quiet and quick and woman’s strategy, of course.  _ Argr. _ But I must have been wrong, and it must not have been so quiet at all. Because  _ now _ ,” his next step was louder, sharper, almost a stomp. “My magic is blunt and withered and  _ ugly.”  _ He spat the word. “Perhaps once, back when I was still  _ me _ , I would never have told you all of this. But I don’t have any pride left. Not anymore.”

“Loki…”

“He’s my brother and I can’t even look at him!” Loki whirled to stand behind Tony, and Tony spun just in time to see his eyes darken and hear his voice drop. “I am broken, Stark. I am the one thing that you can never fix. It is hopeless!” he yelled, grabbing Tony’s shoulders. Tony tensed, but just as suddenly, Loki had let go, and was pacing again, like a caged animal, going around and around in circles. “It is hopeless. And I’m too fucking stupid to understand why you keep trying, and trying, and trying, but eventually even you will have to see sense.”

And with that he went to the door and threw it open, walking out of the room without so much as a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shat. Well, never let it be said that Loki Laufeyson doesn't know how to throw one hell of a temper tantrum. (I don't know who would say that, but you're fucking wrong).  
> Go ahead and leave a comment :)) I breathe them, and they're also my main food source, and also my body doesn't digest water, instead I have to drink comments. (It's really weird, I know. The doctors were all really confused.)   
> And have a lovely night! And a lovely week! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Is stirring a cauldron*  
> Alright, so we’ll add a little bit of Temper Tantrum Sauce--   
> *puts a few drops in*   
> maybe some sibling rivalry mixed with trauma flashbacks...  
> *pours in two ounces*  
>  and, uh, some angst, obviously,  
> *adds a healthy portion*  
> maybe a bit of hurt/comfort?   
> *accidentally pours in the entire bag*   
> oh, fuck. Well, I’ll just even it out with more angst.  
> *accidentally pours in all of it including the box*   
> oh shit, that didn’t go as planned. Well, hopefully it’ll still taste good ;)
> 
> Oh and by the way, you may notice that I’ve added a new tag - Angst With A Happy Ending, so whenever I pour in way too much angst, you can remember that things WILL look up eventually, because I’m not SO much of a sadist as too leave this depressing story with a depressing ending. After all, this is obviously about Loki’s journey to recovery, so… he kind of has to recover eventually, or it would be kind of stupid and unsatisfying to read, I think. (And I've got a ton of cute epilogues planned, so I can't miss the opportunity to write those :) )
> 
> Also, your comments last time made me weirdly sad because you all seemed so genuinely concerned about poor Lokes, and so I was happy when I reread this chapter and found that there was some hurt/comfort (albeit really angsty hurt/comfort) because Loki needs it and it seems like you guys could really use it too, lol. And, like, hurt/comfort’s awesome, so it’s good for me, too.

There were so many emotions swirling sickeningly through Loki’s head - fear and sadness and a crippling shame, so intense that all he wanted to do was crawl away and hide like the miserable, wretched creature he was - but he pushed them away and focused on his _anger_ , his anger, clenching his hands into fists and letting his magic billow around him like one of Thor’s whirling storms, cracking with lightning and giving great booms of thunder that rattled his bones.

“Loki…” Thor stepped forward from somewhere, his ridiculous bright red cape fallen over his shoulder, looking like a cloak of blood. 

Loki stepped away from him, and shouted at him, “No! I don’t want to hear you patronize me, and I don’t want to hear you pretend to give a  _ shit _ about me. Get  _ out _ of here, Thor!” 

He shouted because he didn’t know what else to do.

He couldn’t function when Thor was here. Even now, he felt the urge to run and run with his tail between his legs -  _ pathetic -  _ at the mere sight of his false brother. In his mind, Thor’s lips turned up in an insane smile, and his hands clamped down on Loki’s shoulders, and pushed him down, down to the floor.

_ Thud. _

He stormed past his brother, towards the door, not caring if SHIELD would find him, not caring about anything at all.

But he was so hungry.

So tired.

That he staggered, and fell against the doorframe. His shoulder hit it, but he made no sound, despite the pain. However, Thor must have taken it upon himself to steady him, because suddenly that hand was on his shoulder.

Loki whirled around, jerking out of his grasp, flattening himself against the door, and crossing his arms automatically, over the hidden burn on his chest. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled, hysterical, panicking, unable to even think. “Don’t you dare touch me! I will  _ kill _ you!”

Thor’s eyes darkened, he took a step forward, but then Tony was grabbing his arm and pulling him back - “Get away from him, Thor. Thor, back away!” But Thor took another step, and Loki couldn’t control himself.

He was going to kill them.

And that was fine.

_ They deserved it. _

But he accidentally looked at Tony, and his eyes were focused only on Loki, desperately, pleading with him to  _ stop, _ to  _ think _ , to remember. 

Loki may be an idiot, unable to even preserve his own memories.

But he hadn’t forgotten  _ everything. _

So at the last second, he redirected his magic, and the door exploded into a million dagger-like shards of wood, cutting his arms and his legs but he didn’t care, it was nothing compared to what Thanos had done.

He turned and walked away - the only thing keeping him from running was the inane desire to hold onto the scraps of dignity that he had left, if they even existed at all.

“Don’t use your magic the signal isn’t blocked beyond the house!” Stark shouted after him, all in one breath.

In response, Loki swiftly pulled a knife out of his shoe - he had put one in each - and flicked his wrist, hopefully making the sun glint off of it threateningly; it should be at the right angle. 

He didn’t bother to leave the sight of the house; instead, he hurled the knife at the first tree he saw, and pulled the other knife out of his left shoe, throwing that one after it. He grabbed the knives and screamed, stabbing them into the trunk against and again, in a pathetic display like a child having a temper tantrum.

When he stopped screaming, he barely covered his mouth in time to hold back the sob that immediately came crashing out of his throat, like waves breaking on the shore.

Tears fell from his eyes.

He was so goddamn pathetic.

So pathetic that he couldn’t remember anything, that when he had seen Thor, his stupid mind had convinced him that Thor was a Chitauri even though he knew, he knew that he wasn’t. And he was so stupid - just an object, a plaything, Thanos had been right - that he had been about to… had been about to  _ suck Thor’s cock _ like the whore he was.

The shame, the humiliation, was a tangible thing, churning in his stomach, making him want to throw up. He hated it. He hated what Thanos had reduced him to. He hated what he had become. 

And he was tempted - so tempted - to turn the knife around, to stab it into his own skin, perhaps his heart…

It would be easy.

And why not? It was hopeless. That was what he had told Stark, and it was true. He could never be fixed.

He was broken.

Loki ran his finger over one of the blades. It cut into his skin, and blood ran down his hand in a scarlet river. It was pretty. 

“Loki…?”

He turned with a snarl, arm raised, ready to throw a knife at whoever had spoken.

But it was Stark.

So, slowly, he lowered the knife. 

And with nothing to replace the anger he had felt only a moment before, tears welled up in his eyes, the pathetic tears of an  _ argr _ , of a whore, a beast, a creature.  _ He never used to cry like this. _

He turned his head away, although he would much rather have ripped Stark’s eyes out to spare himself this humiliation. He wouldn’t, though. He may have forgotten the other rules -  _ idiot - _ but he did remember one. The most important one.  _ Rule one of staying at my place. We won’t hurt each other. _

And Loki would follow it. Because he wasn’t going to leave.

He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Stark said, quietly. His arms were crossed tightly, and his eyes were focused on a point somewhere to Loki’s left. “For what they did to you.”

_ You pity me. _

But of course he did. Loki was pathetic; of course Stark pitied him.

“I probably don’t even know everything,” Stark continued. “But what I do know is… is horrible. And no one,  _ no one _ , deserves that.”

Loki watched him silently, with hot tears still falling from his eyes. He blinked, and the world went blurry. It was better that way.

“But I… I don’t think you should be alone,” Stark said. “Because…” and Loki heard him sigh, and saw him draw himself up to his full height, eyes on the sky. “It’s so lonely that way. And trust me, if I could do it again, if I could go back and return from Afghanistan again, I would talk to Pepper, I would talk to Rhodey, to anyone who would listen, really. About it. But all I did was bottle it all up.” 

Loki responded with silence. 

Stark smiled sadly. “I’m not trying to be patronizing or say I know better than you or anything. That’s ridiculous. But I’ll give you an offer. Either you stay out here and I annoy you by trying to be helpful, even though I’m probably not. Or, you come inside and sit on the couch, and I’ll leave you alone. I might make you some food though - can’t help myself. But you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

“Thor?” Loki asked, although he hadn’t meant to talk. To say a single word.

“He’s gone,” Tony said. His smile disappeared. “I made him go. He said he’ll be back in a few days to check on you, but we both agreed it would be better if he left.”

And at that, something within Loki relaxed, and a bit of the anxiety ebbed away. So pathetic that the mere sight of his brother had been enough to scare him so badly. So pathetic that  _ anything _ could have reduced him to  _ that. _

But nevertheless, he felt better knowing that Thor was gone.

“He wanted to talk to you,” Tony said, softly, although he looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from side to side. “He was really concerned. In a normal, brotherly way,” he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to brace himself against the withering glare Loki shot him. “Not pity, or anything like that. And I’m not here because I pity you, either. I’m here because I care about you,” he shrugged, lowering his hands. “Now, about that deal…?”

Loki searched Stark’s face for any sign of a lie. Of those sadistic plans to torment or torture him that he had been so concerned about. Of Chitauri skin.

“I accept,” Loki said, finding nothing.

And he brushed past Stark and the idiotic grin on his face, trudging back up to the house without a second thought. 

()()()

He sat down on the couch, and sank into the cushions. He spent his time by digging his nails into the armrest, and ignored the protesting squeaky noises it made as he did so. In fact, he ignored mostly everything, staring blankly at the wall with his feet up on Stark’s ottoman. There was a window to the right and a bookshelf to the left and a slowly revolving ceiling fan above, but he looked at none of them, instead focusing on that white paint.

“You okay?”

Loki didn’t respond.

“You know, that wall really isn’t going to reveal the secrets of the universe anytime soon. However,” and Loki could see his still-enduring idiotic grin out of the corner of his eye as he set something down on the armrest, beside Loki’s hand. “I would argue that pizza can do just that. And booze.” He set a glass down with a  _ clink _ . “But together? Mmm, you’ll be fucking… er… Plato. Or something. Not  _ fucking _ Plato,” he quickly corrected, hands up. “Just Plato.” 

Loki glanced at him, pointedly. “I thought you said that you would leave me alone.”

Stark’s face immediately fell, as if he had practiced doing so in the mirror, adding as much dejection into those puppy eyes as he could muster. “I mean…” he scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah, I did say that. I’ll just be…” he pointed towards a random hallway. “Yeah. I’ll be over there, I guess. If you need me.”

Loki looked at him for a long moment, not sure why he was considering it, but…

Well, as long as he wouldn’t talk, perhaps it would be nice to have someone there. 

Not that Loki would ever admit it.

Even to himself.

He waved a hand idly. “No, you may stay. As long as you cease your incessant rambling, I will tolerate your pitiful mortal presence.”

Stark immediately grinned, and practically bounced as he dropped onto the couch beside Loki.

“I didn’t say you could sit by me.”

“You didn’t say I  _ couldn’t.” _

Loki  _ hmmph _ ’d, but turned his face to the side to hide a small smile.

His gaze landed on a grease-stained cardboard box, with the words "Little Caesar's" printed across the top.

He turned back to Stark and raised an eyebrow.

"It's pepperoni, because I assumed you weren't one of those maniacs who likes pineapple or mushrooms or, like, shriveled bits of hamburger on their pizza," Stark explained, reaching inelegantly across Loki to grab the pizza box. It caused his arm to touch Loki's chest, but he didn't draw away.

Because Stark wouldn't hurt him.

Yes, yes, he remembered. Stark had never hurt him. And he… he wouldn’t.

Stark took a piece out of the box, undeterred by the wet shine of grease, and he took an enormous bite, closing his eyes and chewing slowly to savor the taste. "Mmmmghn," he said.

"It's good then, I assume?" Loki said, amused.

Stark's eyes widened comically, and he spoke awkwardly around the food in his mouth. "'Oo ‘aven ‘ad pizza? Ohmygah, Lokes!" He swallowed. "This is an atrocity. This is a crime!" he brandished the pizza box in Loki's face. "You have to try some!"

Yes, it was obviously just another thinly disguised way of getting him to eat, but the food did smell good, and Loki's stomach was so empty that it hurt. His hands were shaking, had been for a while.

But the sight of the food reminded him of his cell, reminded him of Thor and that insane smile and those hands, all of those hands all over him, everywhere, the heat and the pain and the taste...

Loki shook his head. "Red," he choked out, pushing the box away.

Stark looked at him for a moment, his gaze indecipherable (well, that was probably because Loki tried his best not to read into it - he could have deciphered it if he wanted to) before setting the pizza box on the floor and saying, "That's fine. No problem."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence while Stark ate, Loki's stomach throbbing weakly with hunger. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around that hollowness, leaning against the armrest because he suddenly felt too exhausted to hold himself upright. He dropped his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes.

()()()

The ensuing panic attack that occurred when Loki woke up and saw Stark sitting there next to him lasted longer than most of the others had, probably because of the events that had transpired earlier that day.

But this time, Loki was too tired to do anything other than curl up in the corner of the couch and try miserably to breathe.

Stark didn't touch him, but hovered near him uncertainly instead, occasionally speaking softly and telling him to breathe, that everything would be okay, that Thor was gone and he was safe and no one was going to hurt him, remember? Didn't he remember?

Loki buried his face in his arms and took deep, shuddering breaths, but they kept slipping away from him.

Dammit. Why did he have to be so weak?

And how did he get here in the first place?

Why was Stark next to him?

Then Stark took his hand, ever-so-gently, and held it as the minutes ticked by quietly, and Loki attempted to get his breathing and his emotions back under control. And slowly, Loki’s memories clicked back into place.

He shouldn't have slept.

And he should have driven the knife home when he had the chance, because he didn't want to spend the rest of his life like this.

"You good?" Stark asked.

"Yes," Loki replied.

"Loki. Look at me."

Loki did.

Stark held his gaze steadily, tightening his grip on Loki's hands. "You don't have to lie. I want you to tell me if you're not feeling all right, so I can help you feel better. So: Are. You. Good?"

Loki looked away. "Stark..."

"Tony."

Loki hesitated. "Tony."

There was silence, while Loki tried to think of something to say.

"I'd like to just sit here. Without talking," he said.

"And that would make you feel better?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll do that," Stark said, with an air of finality.

He didn't relinquish his hold on Loki's hand.

And Loki didn't pull away.

()()()

The rest of the day was spent in relative silence, as the sun slipped down over the horizon, darkening the room because of the dimming light that streamed in through the windows.

Loki drifted in and out of sleep. After so many sleepless nights, that brief descent into sleep had felt like he was a man dying of thirst, handed a water bottle. It felt wonderful and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to stay awake any longer.

Every time he woke up, he was slightly disoriented. Once, he had a panic attack, thinking that Tony was Thor. But every time, Tony gently reminded him of where he was, and who he was with. It made Loki feel stupid. The worst thing was that he needed it..

Tony only left twice, to go to the bathroom. Each time when he returned, he held out his hand for Loki to take, and Loki did.

About thirty minutes after Tony's second return, he set down his phone and leaned his head back against the couch cushions. A few minutes after that, he started to shift in his sleep, jerking and twitching.

Instantly, Loki wrapped his seidr around his dreams, taking them into his own mind.

This nightmare was similar to the others, but with one glaring difference.

Instead of Tony, crouching in front of the wretched, terrified, begging creature in the corner, it was Thor.

It was Thor, and he grinned devilishly, reaching out and grabbing hold of the sobbing Loki's shoulders, pulling him close to his chest. Loki screamed and pleaded. His eyes started to leak blood, but Thor wiped it away with the back of his hand, smearing it all over Loki's cheeks.

"Shhh," Thor murmured. "Rule one: we don't hurt each other. Remember? Remember?"

"I don't know who you are," Loki said. He hiccupped pathetically, as hot tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood.

Thor pinched the neckline of Loki's shirt delicately in between his thumb and his forefingers, pulling it down. Loki whimpered, but Thor put a finger to his lips. "Shh."

He sank his fingernail into the skin of Loki's chest.

Loki whimpered again.

"I won't hurt you," Thor said. "We don't hurt each other. Remember?"

Blood ran down Loki's stomach, dribbled out of his mouth, leaked from his eyes.

Thor slashed his nail downwards, cutting a line into Loki's flesh.

Loki screamed.

And beside him, Stark jerked awake, breathing hard.

He looked frantically towards Loki, who couldn't breathe either. He had thought that he had screamed only in the dream, but he must have done so in real life as well.

They stared at each other, both caught deep in the grips of panic attacks, unable to tell the other to breathe, to calm down, because they couldn't do it themselves.

**Sir, I advise you and Mr. Odinson both to breathe slowly. Inhale now.**

Loki tried to, but couldn't. He just couldn't. He buried his face in his arms, in the comforting darkness, and he tried so damn hard to do as Jarvis said but all he could manage to do was take in a series of small, shaking breaths that didn't get any air into his lungs.

Was he going to suffocate?

**Exhale.** Jarvis ordered.

Loki tried.

He tried.

But it shook, and - no, he was shaking, - and everything was trembling, his hands, his knees, his every breath was shaking too damn much to fit in his lungs. The panic just kept rising higher and higher because he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.

Someone wrapped their arms around him, and he let out a sob as he collapsed into that embrace, too terrified to be ashamed.

He didn't know if he was crying because of the nightmare, or because of Thor's visit or perhaps for everything, everything, all at once.

But when Tony began to rub soft circles into his back, murmuring soft, meaningless words into his ear, with one hand wrapped gently around his waist in a way that reminded him nothing of Thanos or the Chitauri or even the vile illusion of Thor, Loki began to cry even harder.

_ Argr.  _ And pathetic, pathetic, he was...

"Good," Tony murmured in his ear. "Good. Let it all out. That's fine. That's good. You're doing good. We all need a nice, long cry sometimes."

He had the sudden urge to tell Tony, to tell him what he was. He wasn't good. He wasn't. Thanos had been right about him. He wasn't good and he would never be, he was just  _ argr _ and pathetic and not worth anyone’s time.

But he didn't say it. Because it felt too nice to listen to Tony's kind words - he didn't want to interrupt them. Perhaps he could pretend again.

He could pretend that what Tony was saying was true.

Pretend that he wasn't broken. That it hadn't happened and he was himself again. That he was whole, and unmarked, without a burn on his chest and scars on his back and a fractured mind that couldn't hold its memories, like a glass of water with a crack in the bottom.

What was the harm in pretending?

He was the Trickster, after all. 

What a hopeless trick to play.

But he  _ needed _ it. Just for a moment. Just for a moment, he  _ needed _ it so much.

So he closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath and let Tony's words wash over him in something like a calming flood of warm water - "You're okay. You're actually doing great, you know. You're so strong, Loki."

Loki jerked in his grip, pulling away from him, startled. "What?"

Tony stared back at him. "What what?"

Loki wiped at his eyes. "I... you said..." he trailed off.

"Oh," Tony said, the realization dawning in his eyes. He looked down in order to take Loki's hand again, and Loki let him.

"It's true, you know," Tony said, softly. "I've been thinking it since you got here. I don't know anyone who could have gone through what you did, and within a week, been… been sauntering around the place like nothing happened at all," he laughed quietly.

Loki could think of a million reasons why Tony was wrong. (He had just been  _ crying, _ for god’s sake, bawling like a child.)

But he ignored them.

For just one moment. For just one moment, he allowed himself to think that perhaps, perhaps Tony was right.

That despite what Thanos had done to him, that despite the broken mess he had become... he was strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe it was a biiiiit more angst than comfort, but compared to the last few chapters before it, it was a shit load of comfort.   
> What I'm getting at is you shouldn't listen to me.
> 
> And guess what? I'm actually nearing the end of writing this! Which is good because I've got a shit ton more ideas floating around in my head and it is goddamn AGONIZING to not be able to write them because I know that the instant I write a single sentence for a different story I'll lose all my interest in this one. And yes, that's happened before - I have several unfinished stories on my profile. And that is NOT happening again.
> 
> Anyway, just wanted to tell you that, and make you feel sympathy for me, lol.
> 
> And I was wondering if any of you guys would actually feel like sticking around for any other stories I write? (I mean, obviously I wouldn't expect you to read something that you don't LIKE, but I'm curious if you would maybe at least check 'em out?)
> 
> Thanks for reading by the wayy! ily :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um you may or may not have noticed that I love tropes, so here, have a little of that-thing-where-your-otp-take-turns-asking-each-other-personal-questions. And another trope at the end that you may enjoy, but I’m not gonna give anything away ;)

Loki refused breakfast.

And Tony was Not Having It.

Sure, it had been a hell of a day. And he understood that Loki was probably feeling more anxious than he usually would, and wanted food even less than he normally did, but Tony didn't give a damn. He knew Loki had been eating more recently, but he didn't eat dinner last night and Tony wasn't about to let him skip two meals in a row.

So he picked the cold pizza box off the floor, sniffed it, shrugged, and plopped it in Loki's lap.

And for emphasis, he took a piece out and took a huge bite. “Mmm,” he said, swallowing and leaning back into the cushions. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. Can’t say no to a cold slice of pizza early in the morning, can you?”

He watched Loki, eagerly waiting for him to nod and hopefully devour the entire box.

But Loki remained in the same position, staring at the opposite wall. He slowly shook his head, crossing his newly bandaged arms (Tony had spent nearly an hour fussing over the gunshot wound, which was luckily just a scrape, and the little cut marks and splinters from the door he exploded). “I am not hungry,” he said, in a firm tone that left no room for argument. 

Tony argued anyway.

"Come on. You need it. I know you don't want it but you do need it."

Especially after the god awful day he'd had. Seeing his brother had obviously brought up painful memories…

The image of Loki on his knees before his brother, reaching up with that trembling hand, flashed through Tony's mind again. And when it did, he could feel the same mini panic attack he had experienced after waking up threatening to overwhelm him again.

They were all so fucking on edge, their emotions running rampant. Tony chewed ruefully on the inside of his lip. Loki should have someone stable to help him through this. Tony would try his best, but he didn’t know what to do when Loki refused food or had a flashback or broke into a rant like earlier, calling himself all sorts of horrible things that Tony had no idea how to protest against, even though he knew they were wrong.

He had said nothing then, and even now he was saying nothing, because he had no fucking idea what to say.

But he couldn't let Loki go on thinking that all those things he had said about himself were true.

Perhaps it was time for them to have another talk.

()()()

“First and foremost,” Tony began, after he had poured them both glasses of scotch (Loki’s being much more full, of course) and once Loki had grudgingly sat down across from him with his arms folded neatly on the table, his posture stiff and his eyes carefully blank. “I’m gonna try to, I don’t know, avoid triggering anything…”

“I am not a china doll, Stark,” Loki said, curtly.

“Tony,” Tony said, automatically. “And I know. But honestly, the last thing we need is  _ either _ of us having another panic attack right now. We’re both not functioning at our best, emotions are running high,” he waved a hand through the air. “Anyway. If you want me to stop talking, just say ‘red.’”

“You are ridiculous,” Loki growled, glancing somewhere to Tony’s right. “If I wanted you to stop talking, it would be easier to simply say, ‘stop.’”

“Yeah, but…” Tony floundered around for an explanation. “Sometimes, it’s easier to… I guess it’s nice to have that simple, single word, where you know that the other person will immediately stop everything they’re doing. I mean, safe words are more of a BDSM thing - you know, kinky stuff - but the same can apply here.” He raised an eyebrow as a random, inappropriate (in every sense of the word) thought came to him. “Do you have kinks on Asgard?”

Loki closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “The things you choose to focus on.”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah. You’re right,” Tony stammered. But the urge to ramble was strong, and he was sorely tempted to do something awkward like mention the time Janice or Jane or fucking Jezebel - whatever her goddamn fucking name was - had practically bitten off his ear, or perhaps that particularly enlightening session he experienced with that man he took home from one his many parties, where they basically spent most of the night taking turns choking each other. And Tony kept lying to himself, telling himself that the only reason he endured that weirdness was for ‘research’. 

However, most data was not nearly so enjoyable to collect.

“Hn,” he said.

“Hmm?” Loki asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Mm. Oh? Nothing,” Tony said, quickly. Although his mind was far, far away.

It had been a long fucking time since he had had sex, okay? At least a week. (Okay so maybe that wasn’t so long, but it felt way longer.)

Loki leaned forward. “I must say, I am quite curious as to what you are thinking about,  _ Tony.” _

Tony burst out laughing. “I bet you are. I  _ bet _ you are,” he shook his head. “Sorry, Rudolph. You’re gonna have to remain in the dark for this one. I think.”

Loki leaned back. “You can’t hide your thoughts from me. You mortals are so easy to read.”

Eagerly, Tony threw himself into the argument, and they hurled playful insults and vastly inappropriate jokes (some sounded an awful lot like flirting, or would have if Tony didn’t know better) back and forth over the table instead of talking about anything serious, but that was okay, that was  _ great _ . Loki seemed happy.

But then, after their laughter died away, Loki looked off to the side, suddenly somber. His hands were clasped on the table top, and Tony had to fight the urge to reach out and wrap his own tightly around them. He wasn’t sure if Loki would want that, so he managed to keep himself from touching him.

“Can’t we just…” Loki trailed off, but Tony could fill in the blanks.  _ Can’t we just pretend everything’s fine? _

“No,” he said. 

But where to start? With Loki’s reaction to seeing Thor? With his outburst earlier, and the horrible things he had said about himself? The nightmare he must have had, when he woke up screaming? The food he had refused?

Tony did  _ not _ like how many options there were.

It would probably best to start with the least possibly triggering option. So Tony asked, “Were you having a nightmare? Earlier?”

Loki looked down at his nails, studying them idly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Tony was abandoning all hope of ever receiving a reply, when suddenly Loki’s head jerked up and down in a quick nod.

“Was it about Thanos? Or about Thor? Or me?”

Loki grimaced. “Stop.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “I mean, ‘red.’” Too many questions.”

Oh.

“Maybe we could take a break in between?” Tony offered.

Then Loki raised his head, and there was a definite gleam of mischief in his eyes. “My turn, then.”

_ Oh. _

Loki straightened, leaned his head back, and studied him for a long moment, with his hands pressed together beneath his chin as if he were praying (although Tony doubted Loki ever had, or ever would, pray to anyone). A strand of hair had fallen over his eye, and it quivered every time he blinked.

“What does it do?”

“What does what do?”

Loki gestured towards Tony’s chest. “That. Big, glowing blue thing imbedded in you chest. You can’t miss it.”

Oh, wow. So Loki was not playing around. Going for the big questions already.

Tony shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the faint blue glow that showed even through the black shirt he was wearing. “Er.” He pressed a hand to it, cutting off the light. “It keeps shrapnel from stopping my heart.”

“Why would there be shrapnel in your heart?” Loki asked.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Tony waved a finger. “It’s my turn.” He took a breath. “What was your nightmare about?” Perhaps it was a cruel question, and he shouldn’t ask. But Loki had just asked him about his arc reactor, so it didn’t feel so awful to ask him about a nightmare he had had. After all, Tony had had his own nightmares recently. 

Loki did not hesitate to answer. “I dreamed that my magic was being torn from me.”

Oh, wow. His magic was  _ that _ important to him? Important enough to make him scream out in his sleep?

No wonder he had lied to get it back.

Tony nodded sharply, and Loki met his eyes steadily, unwavering. 

_ “Why _ would there be shrapnel in your heart?”

Tony told him. Loki pursed his lips, but showed no other noticeable reaction. “Did I actually help, after you woke up?” Tony asked. “With the nightmare, I mean. Did I help, or did I just make it worse?”

Something in Loki’s neck moved as he swallowed. “I’d say that was obvious.”

“Not an answer, bud.”

Loki blinked, and he said something but no words came out. Then he shook his head slightly, and said, “Yes. You helped. What happened to Barton?”

“What happened to… what happened to Clint?” Tony heard his own voice harden, at the memory of what Loki had done to Clint. 

Loki gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m merely curious,” he said.

“He’s fine,” Tony said, shrugging and looking away. “Hanging out with Natasha, hopefully relieving their unresolved sexual tension with some insane, traumatized assassin sex.”

“Don’t leave anything out, Stark,” Loki said.

So he was back to Stark? Still?

“He had to take a break from his job at SHIELD,” Tony finally relented. “For his mental health. They didn’t think he was stable, although he insisted that he was. But his break only lasted a few months, and he’s back now. Robin Hooding it out in some shady bunker somewhere, y’know how SHIELD is. How did you get your magic back?”

Loki didn’t hesitate. “Red.”

“Oh,” Tony said. “Okay.” He wrung his hands, before he realized what he was doing and crossed his arms. If he didn’t know better, he would find that suspicious, that Loki didn’t want to tell him. But he  _ did _ know better. Loki wasn’t withholding this information in order to trick him, to get something. 

“Um... “ Tony hesitated. 

But he had to ask. And if Loki didn’t want to answer, he could just say so. 

He had to ask.

“When Thor was here…” he trailed off when he saw Loki stiffen. “Sorry, I can ask a different question.”

“You haven’t even asked one yet,” Loki said, his tone biting, but Tony suspected that was to cover something up.

“Fine,” he said. “When Thor was here…” But at the last second, Tony decided against asking that, and switched to a different question. Probably a more important one. “On the beach. You said you knew I wasn’t real… and you said that before, too, you said I was a Chitauri, but you claimed it was just a nightmare.” Tony chewed his lip. “Was it?”

Loki ran a finger down the side of his glass. There was a small cut on his fingertip. 

“Some things are better left unsaid,” he murmured, tilting the glass to look into it. The ice cubes clinked together. His eyes narrowed, and hardened. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. Was he getting angry? Probably, and that was understandable. But Tony really didn’t want a repeat of the mega-magical-explosion debacle from earlier.

“Oh, and Loki…”  _ you’re not weak, you’re not pathetic, and you definitely aren’t broken, and I hate that you think those things about yourself. _

But saying that wouldn’t make Loki believe it.

In fact, bringing it up might just make everything worse.

Tony would just have to do his best to  _ show _ him. (He decided without really thinking, but it was an easy decision.)

He swallowed, shifted in his seat.

Loki’s eyes had dropped down to his hands. Was that because he was ashamed of something? Of himself? Thought he wasn’t good enough?

Was  _ that _ why he hadn’t been eating? Because he thought he didn’t deserve food?

Tony swallowed again, blinked quickly.

“Um… if you get pissed, is your magic gonna start blowing everything up again?” he asked, cautiously, trying a new question, because while Loki hadn’t said ‘red’ in response to the last one, it was clear that he hadn’t wanted to answer it.

Loki cocked his head to the side, still looking intently at his glass of scotch. He lifted it to his lips, took a sip, and set it back down, in one fluid motion. “I don’t know,” he said. “But it is as I said; my magic is uncontrollable at the moment.”

Tony could hear the phantom echo of Loki’s words from earlier.  _ Blunt and withered and ugly. _

“It didn’t feel that way to me,” he said. “Well, actually, in a way it does, I guess. But not in a scary, oh-shit-my-guts-are-gonna-end-up-decorating-the-walls kind of way. Actually, all I could focus on was how freaking  _ good _ it felt. Almost as good as an orgasm.”

Loki pinched his nose again.

“And I mean that as the highest of praise,” Tony continued.

Loki let out a slow sigh.

“Like. It was epic. I’m getting horny just thinking about it. Can you do that again?” Tony asked, holding out his hand towards Loki in anticipation.

Loki glanced at his hand, then at him. “The amount of magic I used on you was inconsequential. Was practically nothing. It is only the simple biology of your mortal body that caused you to feel it so intensely.”

“Wow,” Tony said. “That’s really, really interesting.” He nodded several times as if to prove that he was telling the truth. “So,” he waggled his fingers. “Magic? As long as you don’t explode me.”

“You want to feel my magic, even after I told you it was uncontrollable?” Loki asked, cocking his head to the other side. “You are very reckless, Tony Stark.”

“I mean, I already broke you out of SHIELD, I think getting a ‘lil taste of your wizard powers ranks pretty low on my list of ‘Totally Idiotic Shit I’ve Done’ at the moment. But then again, it’s a long list, and...”

Loki shut him up by grabbing his hand.

And instantly, he was swept away by it, feeling like he had been hurled up into the sky, trapped in that instant between flying and falling, where his heart flew up into his throat and his stomach dropped into his feet and he wanted to shout something obscene at the stars. He couldn’t stop a grin from crossing his face. It just felt so  _ right. _

Loki used more magic this time, and it did start to tingle unpleasantly after a bit. It didn’t  _ really _ tingle, not physically, but it  _ tingled _ . Somehow. It was impossible to explain, how he could feel so much without actually feeling anything at all.

But Loki broke the connection quicker this time, pulling his hand away from Tony’s as if he had been burned. Tony was dazed at first, unable to focus on anything but the disappointing sensation of feeling strangely empty, with his head still spinning from the rush. But once he was able to see properly again, he could see that Loki was breathing hard, hugging his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. Then he tipped dangerously forward, as if he couldn’t hold himself up.

Tony had circled the table in an instant, poised to catch him if he fell. But Loki put up an irritated finger, panting as he choked out, “I’m… fine, Stark.”

“No,” Tony said. “No, no. You’re not. What’s wrong?” 

Loki glared at him, then he tipped forward again. He caught himself on the edge of the table, but Tony put a hand on his shoulder to steady him anyway. 

“Come on,” he said, putting another hand on Loki’s back and starting to push him off the chair. “To the couch we go.”

Loki tried to shove him away, but failed miserably. However, Tony backed up anyway, because he really didn’t want Loki to start exploding stuff. Loki hugged himself with his arms. He didn’t seem to be having a panic attack. But he kept slumping to one side or another, and his eyes kept drifting shut. Tony reached up a cautious hand to help him, but he snapped, “I’m fine,” again.

_ No, you’re really not _ .

“Loki, talk to me. What’s going on?” Tony asked. He bit his lip again. Had it been the use of his magic that exhausted him? But even when he hadn’t been eating, he had still been able to use his magic without getting this tired. And now he had been healing, had been getting better, eating more, sleeping more.

Right?

Loki shook his head.

“If you start to fall, I’m going to catch you. I’m not about to stand back here and let you crack your head open. And if you start to fall, you  _ are _ going to be carried to the couch. Would you rather be carried or walk there now?” Tony asked, feeling like he was talking to a rebellious child.

“I’m not going to fall,” Loki said, stubbornly. He put a hand on the side of the table to steady himself. “I’m not weak.” 

“Never said you were,” Tony said easily.  _ And you’re not, you’re not, not even close - how could you ever think that you were? _

Loki nodded hesitantly at first, then more vigorously, then he put a hand to his head, tangled his fingers in his hair, and looked back down at his glass of scotch. 

“It’s late,” Loki said, without looking at the clock.

“It is,” Tony agreed. “Time for bed, then?”

“I suppose,” Loki said, to his glass. He ran his cut finger along the rim, in circles.

“You didn’t drink much of that.”

“Evidently.”

“Oh well,” Tony said. “But I’m sure you drank enough to get kinda wobbly. I should probably just help you walk over to the couch. Just in case. I don’t want your blood on my hardwood floors.”

Loki stood, leaning ‘casually’ against the table. Tony put a hand around his shoulders, and he didn’t miss the way Loki leaned against him as if he was too tired to stand up, as Tony helped him walk out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

And he found it funny that they didn’t even discuss it. Loki collapsed onto the sofa in the corner, and Tony sprawled out on the one on the opposite wall, as if it was totally natural that they were sleeping in the same room. Of course, it was all practical. But still. 

Jarvis turned off the lights, and Tony was left to listen to Loki’s still-heavy breathing. He could vaguely see the outline of his pale skin - one of his hands draped over the side of the couch, his hair fallen over his face, his cheek squished into the pillow. 

And Tony remained looking at Loki, with a faint smile on his face, until he fell asleep.

()()()

The hands tightened in his hair, dirty nails dug into his scalp. Tony sucked in heaving gasps of precious air, his eyes stinging, darting around until they landed on the car battery. It wasn’t wet yet,  _ not yet _ , but...

He was in the water again, his head spinning, his lungs aching. Then it was pain, pain in his chest - he opened his mouth, trying to breathe, to scream, but there was nothing but water, water, water.

They pulled him out again, and he tried not to make the water splash, chest heaving as his eyes fell on the car battery again. Fuck, he didn’t want to die here.

When he looked down again, the water had turned to blood.

“No!” he shouted, as the hands adjusted their grip on his hair, and his shoulders, about to push him under. “No!” he fought, he screamed and kicked but they didn’t care, they didn’t give a damn. His heart was thudding in his chest. “No, don’t! I’ll build it for you, I’ll build it for you, I’ll build it I’ll build it I’ll…”

His panicked voice rose into a scream as they pushed him down, down, down.

Into Loki’s blood.

Loki’s blood.

He didn’t know how he knew, he just did, he just  _ knew. _ And he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, his lungs felt like they were going to burst. 

Blood filled his mouth.

Loki’s blood.

And he swallowed it, he breathed it. It filled his lungs, it flowed through his veins, pulsing in time with the panicked beating of his heart.

And the hands on his shoulders pushed, pushed him forward into the bucket. He fell and fell and fell.

()()()

And screamed.

And screamed, and covered his face with his hands, and couldn’t breathe, was going to fall, swallow, suffocate, drown. He turned on his side and pressed himself against the side of the couch, shaking, trying not to throw up and trying not to cry and trying to breathe.

“Oh, Tony,” someone whispered. “I’m sorry.”

There was a soft hand on his shoulder, sliding down his arm, fingers tangled in his hand. A warm breath on his neck, a knee pressed against his thigh, and an arm flung over his waist. Another hand in his hair, gentle fingers running through it, gently, gently, nothing at all like his dream.

Tony shuddered, and buried his face in the couch cushion. He gripped that hand tightly. It was the last thing left in the world.

And when he fell back asleep, he had no more nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH!!!  
> YESS!! Finally, cuddles! (This chapter in particular made me really happy to post, because - cuddles!)  
> Cuddlesss.  
> (lol)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I FINISHED this story!!!  
> AHHHH  
> So I've never finished anything long before? Just one shots? and I... weirdly didn't even realize that I'd written the ending before I looked back and was like oh SHIT this is totally the ending and then I felt weirdly sad but also super happy and also it felt really anticlimactic so... that was weird.  
> But I FINISHED ITTT!  
> So no need to worry about this thing being left hanging, or anything. There are 33 chapters so... you'll still get 16? if I did my math right? And probably two epilogues (one series one and one stupid crack one). And also it all came out to about 167k words pre-edit which is a hell of a lot lmao and I'm honestly so proud of myself.
> 
> Anyway, here, have a long ass chapter. It probably should have been cut in two but... it wasn't, for some reason. So you get this 6,000 word monster. 
> 
> And the glamour-wearing thing was shamelessly stolen from Don’t Look Down by NamelesslyNightlock. And I haven't taken Sif and the Warriors Three out of the second chapter yet, but I'm going to because otherwise this chapter won’t make any sense and also they were never really necessary there in the first place.
> 
> Anyway, things are coming to a head in this chapter. And not in a sexy way. Enjoy the angst!

They were a mess.

At least, that was what Tony said, when he finally woke up, rolling over to face Loki, which forced Loki to have to reluctantly remove his arm from Tony’s waist. “Y’know, I think we’ve graduated.”

“Mm?” Loki murmured, still groggy from the few hours of sleep he had gotten. Still reeling from Tony’s nightmare.

Tony grinned unsteadily. His eyes looked haunted. “From ‘a lil screwed up’ to ‘a motherfucking mess’.”

Loki closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth. Strange, because normally he hated being warm. “We are quite the catastrophe.”

It flashed through his head again - the pain, the blood and… and that terrible falling, falling, falling. He stiffened accidentally, wondering why he forgot the things he wanted desperately to remember, and was forced to remember the things he would give anything to forget. 

But he could feel Tony’s breath on his skin. At least he had gotten to get some sleep. So it was worth it.

“But it’s not so bad,” Tony slurred, voice heavy with sleep.

“No,” Loki murmured.

The couch was big enough for two, practically a bed, so they weren’t touching. Aside from their hands, which were still clasped together. And sweaty, too. But Loki didn’t feel any urge to pull away.

He never really did anymore, did he?

()()()

“Coffee,” Tony said, pushing a mug into Loki’s hands. 

Loki stared at it. And at his hands, which were shaking. How could one mug feel so heavy?

“ _ Don’t _ tell me,” Tony said, raising his eyes dramatically to the ceiling. “You’ve never had coffee. What do they feed you in Asgard?”

“Mainly red meat,” Loki said, flatly, leaning against the wall in an effort to ward off the dizziness he had felt ever since leaving the couch. “Very red. And there is always an overabundance of peeled grapes.”

“Sticking with the royal prince shtick, I see.”

Loki drew himself up, looking down at Tony, with a smirk playing on his lips. “Aye. You should be bowing down to me, mortal.”

“Don’t start,” Tony said, pretending to sound exasperated. He tapped a fingernail against the side of Loki’s mug. “Less talking, more drinking. You still look tired.”

Loki raised the mug to his nose and sniffed it, hesitantly. It did smell incredible, although he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the heat of the steam on his face. Cautiously, he took a sip.

“I barely tasted anything,” he said, once he had regained his composure, and blinked the tears from his eyes.

“No duh. You were too busy having your tongue burnt off.”

Loki ignored him.

He went to the table and sat down, without bringing his mug. He didn’t feel like drinking either. Didn’t feel like doing much of anything. And even if he had wanted to, he wasn’t sure that he could.

Shame made him drop his eyes to the table top

He was aware that he was wasting away. Ever since sharing that small amount of magic with Tony he had felt exhausted. And when he had checked himself earlier in the mirror, removing his glamor to see, he had been met with a skeleton. The burn on his chest seemed even darker. The lash marks on his back stood out more. His eyes were sunken into his face. He could count his ribs.

(He was so ugly, now.)

“Here. Come get some cereal,” Tony said, pointing to a brightly colored cardboard box, a milk carton and two bowls he had set out on the counter.

Loki stood up, and his head spun with dizziness. He caught himself with a hand on the side of the chair.

**Mr. Odinson? Are you feeling well?**

Loki inhaled sharply, glancing around wildly, shrinking against the side of the table and putting a hand up as if to protect himself. “What was that?”

Tony walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “S’just Jarvis. He’s my AI.”

“AI?” Loki repeated, breathlessly, taking an unconscious step back. “I don’t understand.”

He never understood anything.

Tony dropped his eyes to the ground. “Artificial Intelligence. It’s a computer, helps me with stuff. Can’t hurt you. And are you feeling all right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now, as I was saying. Cereal? I’ve got your favorite - Lucky Charms.”

“My favorite?”

Tony shook his head. “Nevermind. But it’s got marshmallows. I think you’ll like it.”

Loki knew he was missing something. Knew he was being stupid. But he allowed Tony to prepare a bowl of cereal for him, pretending that it wasn’t because he knew his own hands would shake if he tried to do it himself.

And when Tony handed him the bowl, and turned to make his own, Loki took a deep breath, and picked up the spoon in a trembling hand.

“It’s not good,” he said, when Tony turned back around, swallowing to pretend that he had just eaten a bite. “I don’t like it.”

“You ate it a few days ago,” Tony said, sounding nervous. “You said it was good, but that you weren’t hungry. You said you liked the marshmallows a lot.”

Loki set the bowl on the counter, focusing on standing. His knees felt like they were going to give out. He pressed his hand against his eyes, because the lights were too bright and his head kept pounding.

“You sure you’re okay? Hey, hey, Jarvis?”

**Mr. Odinson is suffering from dizziness and a headache.**

Loki stiffened. His glamour could hide most things, but apparently it couldn’t hide that. And why could this mysterious voice tell, anyway? What  _ was _ it?

“Sit down,” Tony ordered, helping him to walk to a chair. Loki would have protested, but he felt too weak to walk on his own. He hated how relieved he felt when he sat down.

Instead of sitting across from him, Tony pulled a chair next to his, and plopped into it, immediately putting an arm around Loki’s shoulder and holding his hand with the other. And Loki hated how he leaned into the touch, drew comfort from it. 

“Okay,” Tony said. “We’re having another talk. And this one’s important.”

Loki hunched over, covered his chest with his free arm, kept his eyes on the ground. The Chitauri used to like it when he looked at the ground.  _ Know your place. _

“When was the last time you ate?” Tony asked, gently, squeezing his hand.

Loki closed his eyes.

_ Eat. _

_ Eat. _

_ Finish the job. _

_ Open your mouth. _

He jerked involuntarily, wrenched his hand out of Tony’s and pressed it against his cheek, trying to wipe away the water from his eyes without Tony noticing. And hopefully, he wouldn’t notice the shakes, either.

He was so tired.

And so hungry.

_ Hungry, Laufeyson? _

_ Then open your mouth. _

_ Whore. _

Laughter echoed through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut again. He hated this. He wanted to shove Tony away, wanted to stand up and raise his chin and lie, pretend that he was fine. 

But he was too tired to stand.

And that  _ scared _ him. He didn’t want to… to starve. He  _ didn’t want to die, _ at least not in this way, but he couldn’t…

Couldn’t eat.

At least, not on his own.

He let out a shuddering breath.

**The last time Mr. Odinson ate was two days ago, when he had a bite of a granola bar. However, ever since he arrived here, the portions he has consumed have not nearly enough to keep him healthy.**

“Fuck,” Tony muttered. Loki couldn’t look at him. “Jarvis, why didn’t you tell me?”

**I have been trying, sir. His magic has been preventing me from alerting you.**

“Loki,” Tony said, voice near to breaking. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, as shame burned him alive. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Loki, look at me.”

Loki took a shaky breath, and he turned to meet Tony’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

Perhaps, back when he still had pride, he would never have admitted this. But back when he had pride, he would have been able to force himself to eat.

And he wouldn’t have felt so reassured when Tony smiled sadly and took both of his hands. “That’s okay,” he said. “That’s okay. Cause I’ll help you. Rule five, okay? We will both, always, help each other. Because we’re both a mess.” He laughed, and Loki managed to laugh weakly as well, without it sounding completely like a sob. “But it’s much easier to be a mess with someone else than to be a mess all by yourself.”

Loki nodded, and yes, the shame ate him up from the inside out, but the strangest, most wonderful feeling of comfort quickly replaced everything that had been eaten away.

()()()

“It’s a glamour,” Loki admitted, when Tony asked him how he had been able to keep looking so healthy, to even appear to put on weight. “I don’t actually look like this.”

They had moved to the couch, and Tony had put some distance between them, leaving Loki curled up cross-legged in the corner of the couch, tempted to grab a pillow and hold it to his chest, and hating how tempted he was. He was also cold. Normally he loved the cold, but now he.... he would rather be warm. Maybe.

Tony was sitting with one leg pulled up unnaturally on top of the other, picking at his sleeve. “And what do you look like?” he asked, running a hand over his face.

Loki hesitated, but it seemed that Tony already knew the answer..

“And why the hell would you hide it from me? Why the  _ hell _ did you do that?” he snapped, something in his face twitching violently. 

Loki swallowed hard. 

Anger was never a good sign.

(Dammit. Why couldn’t he have hidden this better?)

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, in a voice that came out much too weak and small for his liking.

Tony barked out a cold laugh.

“No, I’m fucking _ pissed _ at you. I’m pissed,” Tony said, clenching his hands into fists and letting out a sharp breath. “Because you could have just  _ told _ me, and I could have helped you, and now you wouldn’t be fucking emaciated!” he shouted the last word, finally looking at Loki, just in time to catch his accidental flinch..

“Sorry,” Tony muttered. “Sorry. Shouldn't've yelled. I’m not even mad at you, actually. I’m mad at my own fucking self, for not figuring it out sooner. I should’ve figured it out. It was - it  _ should have been _ so fucking obvious.”

Loki stiffened, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No,  _ I’m _ the one who…” Tony cut himself off with a broken laugh, running a hand through his hair, dropping his eyes to the two feet of couch between them. “Nevermind. Nevermind. This isn’t even fucking important. Will you eat something?” he asked, looking up to meet Loki’s eyes again.

Loki swallowed. “I  _ can’t.” _

“Yes, you can,” Tony said, shifting both of his legs up onto the couch to mimic Loki’s position. “Come  _ on. _ You’re Loki! Prince of Asgard, wielder of epic magic, survivor of Thanos, who tossed me - Tony Stark! - out a window like I was a crumpled up piece of paper! You. Can do. Anything.”

He looked so serious, so honest, with a small smile pulling at his lips and a few shiny tears caught in his beard - that Loki almost, almost, managed to believe him.

But Tony must have seen something in his eyes, because he reached across to put an awkward hand on his arm, and said, “If you won’t do it for yourself, if you  _ can’t _ do it for yourself, then at least do it for me.”

Loki stared at him, trying to remember why Tony would care. Had he known, once, and just forgotten?

“Please?” Tony said, desperately.

“Don’t beg,” Loki said, gently prying Tony’s hand away from his arm. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Tony went quiet, chewing on his lip, staring at the ground. Then he snapped his fingers, and looked up at Loki, with a genuine smile on his face this time. “They never poisoned your water, did they?”

“No…”

“Then how ‘bout a smoothie?”

And he was off the couch, telling Loki to stay put, running into the kitchen and flinging the fridge open. He hummed as he pulled random items out, but he accidentally dropped an apple and had to stop humming in order to say, “Fuck.” He picked it up and took a bite without washing it. Loki grimaced.

Then he dumped everything (minus the bitten apple) into a machine, which rumbled like a loudly growling stomach. When it was done he poured the pink mixture into two tall glasses, adding one swirly piece of plastic to each.

He practically bounced as he came back to the couch, and eagerly shoved one of the glasses into Loki’s hand.

“What is this?” Loki asked, pointing at the strange tube of plastic.

“Curly straw,” he said, and took a sip from his own. “It’s not necessary, but it’s, like,  _ necessary. _ Mmm, that’s good. Maybe needs some more vanilla, though. What do you think?” 

Loki didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl at Tony’s not-so-subtle tactics. 

He decided to just take a sip.

And it was good. And sweet. And he had always like sweet things, despite the times Thor jokingly called him  _ argr _ for it. He knew it was a joke. 

_ Thor. _

Loki quickly pushed the thought of his false-brother away.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Good. I want you to drink the whole glass,” Tony said.

Loki’s heart sank. He could manage a few sips, but an entire glass of it… already, dread and anxiety were rising up in his throat. The same dread, and the same anxiety he had felt whenever the Chitauri would give him food, and he wouldn’t know if it was poisoned, wouldn’t know if he was going to be fed or going to be racked by the most horrible waves of pain, leaving him vomiting and writhing and screaming on the floor.

_ “Eat.” _

His hand must have been shaking, or perhaps he was too weak to lift even this much, because suddenly the glass fell to the floor and shattered, dousing Loki’s feet and the floor in the ice-cold smoothie. The loud noise made Loki flinch, more violently than he had flinched since Thor left. 

For an instant, all he could do was stare.

His  _ heart _ hurt. Something in his chest was aching.

(What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he even hold a glass?)

_ Broken, broken. _

He covered his face with his hands and tried not to cry. But a small, pathetic noise escaped his throat regardless. And he knew what it was. _ A whimper. _

When Tony put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched again, sucked in a short breath, stiffened, and Tony pulled his hand away briefly, only to scoot over to sit right next to him, and put his arm around his shoulders. “Hey,  _ hey _ , Loki. What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

Loki tried, unsuccessfully, to retain some of his dignity, to push down his tears and force his eyes to look blank instead of whatever humiliating emotion was filling them. He tried to bring himself to speak, to make a casual, cutting comment that would stifle Tony’s attempts to comfort him. But every time he tried to talk, he couldn’t, because it came out as a whimpering hitch of a breath.

“S’okay,” Tony said, pulling him into his arms. “Rule five. This is me helping you, but soon I’m sure it’ll be your turn to help me. It’s a trade-off. Just business.”

Loki laughed into his hands. He wasn’t sure if it came out as a laugh, or as a sob.

“This doesn’t make you weak,” Tony said, sort of rocking him back and forth, and Loki wondered how he knew what Loki had been thinking. “Everyone needs a good cry sometimes, that’s all. It’s human nature.”

_ I’m not human. _

Loki let out a sob, shoulders shaking.

Tony pulled him closer.

“That’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. It’s perfectly okay to cry.”

And the idea was so ridiculous - that people were free to cry here without being labeled  _ argr _ or weaklings or women, that Loki allowed himself to embrace it. To embrace the notion that perhaps he could cry, and allow Tony to hug him, and that he could see be seen as strong, regardless.

Eventually he would come back to his senses, and hate himself for this.

But for now, he was too tired.

And Tony was so warm. And the closeness, it… it was comforting.

(Ha! How he had fallen from grace.)

But perhaps he could just have a day, this time. Just until the end of the day, to allow himself to be comforted, and to cry if he had to, filthy tears all over Tony’s shoulder.

And just a day to pretend that he could do all of that, and be anything but pitifully weak.

(Because he  _ needed  _ it. More than he had ever needed anything in his life.)

This pretending, this false comfort, false pride - it was like a drug. He was  _ addicted _ to it.

And so he fell deep into that warmth, and he laid his head on Tony’s shoulder, let out a sigh, and closed his eyes as the tears streamed silently down his cheeks.

()()()

Once Loki’s breakdown had ended, Tony put on a movie - the third of the Harry Potter series, which was apparently his favorite. And he had one of his robots clean up Loki’s mess, luckily, because Loki would have felt horrendously guilty if Tony knelt down to clean it himself.

Tony also made him a mug of tea, which smelled divine. With the first sip, Loki could tell that he had added something to it. “Protein powder,” Tony explained, when Loki asked. He didn’t explain what protein powder was, and while Loki could guess, he didn’t really care. It tasted wonderful, regardless. 

This time, Tony didn’t tell him to drink all of it, didn’t even mention it, actually, which somehow made the anxiety all but disappear.

When the characters on the screen started firing random spells at each other, Loki burst out, “There is no subtlety here at all! They’re throwing spells around like they’re dodgeballs. If this was real, they would have exploded the entire castle by now.”

Tony laughed harder and longer than was necessary, and pulled Loki closer with the arm that was around his shoulder. Then he cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You play dodgeball in Asgard?”

Loki hesitated. “Duckball, perhaps? That could be a more similar translation? Not quite sure. But the warriors crowd around in a circle, and there are two in the center,” he gestured wildly with his hands, and Tony watched him as if he was explaining the most interesting thing in the world. “And the warriors on the side all chant this ridiculously complex rhyme, which ends with ‘Dodge or suffer, dodge or suffer’.”

Tony snorted. “Typical Asgard.”

“Indeed. And the warriors on the side all throw balls - or boulders, sometimes - at the two in the center, and the first to get hit loses the game. I wasn’t allowed to play, because I would always use magic to ensure my victory.”

Tony snorted again. “Typical Loki. Of course you would.”

Loki allowed himself to smile, and to drop his head down onto Tony’s shoulder. Tony took his hand, and they watched the movie together.

As much as he searched, he couldn’t find that anxiety, or that dread, that used to live inside him like some deadly parasite. It was gone. Replaced by warmth and relief and peace.

And a debt he could never repay.

()()()

“It’s time to sleep,” Tony announced. They had spent the day milling around, doing nothing productive, before finally going back to the couch. Tony had made Loki another cup of tea, and he had drank about half of it. Loki glanced at the clock, which read 12:00. He wasn’t sure if the Midgardian time system was the same as the one on Asgard, but twelve seemed as good a time to sleep as any.

But neither of them moved.

“We cuddled last night,” Tony observed, glancing at him. “I mean. Y’know what I… I mean?”

Loki let out a sigh. 

“What?” Tony asked, indignantly, pulling a leg up onto the couch in the most unnatural position achievable.

“Must you always say everything in the most awkward way possible?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then ask me,” he said, smiling mischievously. “ _ Say it.” _

Tony spluttered. “Wha… why do you have to make everything as difficult as possible?”

Loki smirked. “Well, if you have nothing better to do than insult me, I suppose I shall retire to my couch in the far corner.”

Not that he wouldn’t mind sleeping on the same couch as Tony. In fact, it might be nice.

But it was also nice to watch him squirm.

“Fine!” he burst out, glaring. “Fine.” He pulled another leg up onto the couch and cleared his throat. “Why hello there, Prince Loki. Wouldst thou desire to cuddle with me throughout this long and arduous night?”

“Well, it would truly be an insult to my station to touch such an inferior peasant as you,” Loki said, pretending to be deeply considering the question, although he had already made up his mind. “But I suppose, if you gave me a foot massage, I could…”

“Not on your life,” Tony muttered, shoving him away, and managing to maintain his pretense of anger for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. 

Loki laughed, too.

And Tony grabbed them a blanket and two pillows, and they laid down together on the couch.

However, a few minutes after Tony fell asleep, he rolled over with a sleepy murmur, ending up with his back pressed against Loki’s chest, and a headful of hair in front of Loki’s face, tickling his chin. 

And even when Tony’s nightmares entered Loki’s mind, he did not find them nearly so terrifying, when he could still feel the warmth of Tony’s body against his.

()()()

“Re-do,” Tony said.

“What?”

They were sitting at the table, and Tony had made them both eggs “out of principle”, along with tall glasses of orange juice. Loki was greatly enjoying his.

“Re-do,” Tony insisted.

“You’ll have to explain yourself sooner or later,” Loki said, taking a sip from his curly straw.

Tony grabbed his glass and pulled it away. “Our little excursion to Montreal, y’know, that calamity,” he waved a hand. “We’re gonna re-do it. Re-do.”

He sounded so sure of himself that Loki couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. “And how will we prevent the people from recognizing us?”

Tony practically cackled.

“Makeup!” he cried. “Makeup, makeup, makeup. Wall-E can do it, can’tcha, Wall-E?”

They both glanced at the little robot on the floor. It  _ whrr _ ’ed passionately.

“He has arms, I swear,” Tony said. “But he’s in his Roomba form right now. Cleaning the floor.” He leaned down and patted the robot affectionately on the head.

“Or,” Loki interrupted. “I could provide a glamour for us. It’s much safer,” he said, when Tony glared at him. 

“But…”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t only be doing this for you. I, too, would like to go outside, and I do not desire to be punched in the face by any passers-by, either.”

“Not happening,” Tony muttered, shoving the glass of orange juice back to Loki. “Never in a million years.”

“It won’t take much more energy. I’m already using one for…”

“That’s why I can’t let you! You need your magic for  _ healing.  _ In fact, I should make you take off the glamour you’re already wearing! _ ”  _ Loki clearly saw Tony wince as he replayed his own words in his mind.

But Loki just scoffed, taking a sip of orange juice and waving a hand through the air. “How could you ever  _ make me _ remove my glamour?”

Tony scowled, hunching down over his plate. “Annoy you to death.”

“Stop being such a child,” Loki said. He stabbed his fork through the egg on his plate, and it remained standing up when he removed his hand, quivering slightly. “You have two options,” he stuck two fingers in the air. “Either we stay here, cooped up in this house.” He lowered a finger, and stuck the remaining one in Tony’s face. “ _ Or _ , we find a  _ safe _ way to leave, where there is no chance of our being found, and my being forced to stab an innocent civilian. Speaking of, whatever happened to the men I exploded last time?”

Tony’s scowl deepened. “They were fine. Hospitalized for weeks but probably’ll be ll‘right,” he mumbled, turning the last few words into one, mushed up word.

Loki nodded. “See? It is not a good idea to go outside if there is even a chance of being recognized. You are the Iron Viper, remember? In the eyes of the…”

“Of course I fucking remember!” Tony burst out.

“Then?” Loki asked, calmly raising an eyebrow.

Tony muttered something obscene, and shoved a forkful of egg into his mouth.

()()()

“If you seem tired, we’re going home,” Tony said. “If you refuse, then I’ll fucking carry you. And I’m bringing us both thermos’s of tea, which we will drink, because it’s fucking important to stay hydrated. Got that?”

“Yes,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. Inwardly reeling over the fact that Tony had called this their ‘home.’

“Right. Well, I haaave something for you!” Tony cried, singing the word, and handing Loki a plastic bag. “It’s kinda old, and it’s the tallest one I have but I know it won’t fit you, so I figured since you’re gonna be wearing a glamour and stuff you could just change your body to make it fit? If you want?”

“Norns,” Loki said, when he opened the bag. 

Tony hopped from foot to foot, his hands clasped behind his back. “C’mon, gimme something here. ‘Norns’ could mean anything. Are you gonna put it on, or are you gonna blow up the house because you hate it so much?”

“The former,” Loki breathed. “Thank you.”

He went into the bathroom and put on Tony’s offering - a black suit. It was too short, and too wide, but he still spent about a minute staring at himself in the mirror, adjusting the cuffs and lifting his chin.

How unexpected.

He looked good.

Well, he always looked good, of course.

This was simply an improvement upon something which had already been spectacular.

Nevertheless, he grinned.

“Is that a saunter?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow as Loki exited the bathroom and did a twirl with his arms out.

“You shall address me only as ‘my liege’ and will hasten to fulfill my every whim or desire,” Loki said, feeling like himself. He gestured towards Tony, who was leaning casually against the counter and grinning. “Firstly, go get changed. I won’t be seen in public with you looking like such a guttersnipe. Afterwards, you will polish my shoes, and I’m still waiting for that foot massage.”

“Fuck you too, my liege,” Tony said, grinning and saluting him. Then he turned on his heel - somehow, despite the fact that he had been leaning against the counter - and disappeared without a word, although the middle finger he was holding up spoke volumes.

And Loki barely managed to hold back his laughter until he was gone.

()()()

Tony emerged from the hallway with his arms up, dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and the most serious look on his face, that Loki would have laughed if it wasn’t for one glaring detail.

“We’re matching.”

“Hm,” Tony said.

“You’re wearing the  _ same damn thing _ as me.”

Tony grinned and lowered his sunglasses. “Complaining?”

Loki scowled and crossed his arms. “Just come here.”

Tony walked forward, spun in a circle as he did so, and came to an abrupt halt directly in front of Loki, who took a step back. “I want to be blonde,” Tony said. “With rippling biceps and perfectly diagonal toes. Oh, and make me a woman.” He grinned. “I’ve never been one, you see. I think it would be an  _ enlightening _ experience.”

“I can only make you someone I’ve seen, and whose image I remember well. Or you could show me a picture.”

“Got any hot Asgardian babes in that memory of yours?” Tony asked.

“No,” Loki said, flatly. 

“You sure about that?”

Loki stared him down intensely, and Tony stared right back.

“Fine,” Loki said, and in the blink of an eye, Tony was Sif.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Instantly, his eyes went down to his chest.

“Oh  _ shit.” _

He looked exactly like Sif - of course his did, because Loki’s glamours were always impeccable - from the rope of hair protruding from the back of his head, to the perfectly lined toes, and even the voluminous breasts sticking out of his chest, wobbling around like hunks of Jell-O (Tony had shown him Jell-O once. Loki had despised everything about it.)

Tony’s face split in a childish grin (and in many ways, he really was just like an immature child) and he thrust his chest out and poked one of his breasts experimentally. It wobbled.

“I could put an eye out with these things,” he said.

Loki snorted, causing Tony to look up at him. His eyes widened and he jumped back, clutching the table as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Holy fucking shitballs. That is terrifying.”

“Much more terrifying when he is coming at you with an axe, screaming bloody murder,” Loki said, stroking his red beard thoughtfully. “Is this better?” he asked, and changed from Volstagg into Fandral.

“Too…” Tony waved his arms around. “Mustachey.”

“I always thought so,” Loki said. He turned into Hogun. “This?”

“It’s the best so far. Although…” he hesitated. “Are you sure you can’t let me just… see your actual face? And your normal body? Instead of that?” he gestured vaguely at Loki’s new face. “It’s freaking me out.”

“It is a glamour. It alters your perception. So it is simple to make it so you are unaffected, while everyone else would remain to see me in this form.” He allowed the glamour to melt away from Tony’s mind. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

And if Tony felt it when Loki removed the image of Sif from him, so that Loki could see  _ his _ actual face, and body, as well, he didn’t say a word.

()()()

Tony drove them to a beach. But after he spent ten minutes trying to find a parking spot, while swearing profusely, Loki suggested that they give up and go somewhere else.

Tony suggested a restaurant, but Jarvis informed them that all the good ones were full, and all the bad ones were crowded.

“Shopping?” Tony asked, after they had waited in the drive-thru of a Taco Bell - which he apparently found hilarious, that there was a Taco Bell in Mexico - and bought a burrito for each of them. Suddenly, he grabbed Loki’s arm. “Shopping!”

“Please don’t smile like that, it is unnerving,” Loki said.

Tony threw back his head and cackled. “I’m gonna take a Norse god clothes shopping!” He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I love my life.”

()()()

Tony let him loose in the store, apparently feeling like a mother bird chucking her chick out of the nest for the first time. He wiped at his eyes, and then rubbed his hands together, grinned devilishly, and headed off into another part of the store.

Loki wandered around aimlessly, running his hands over the racks of clothes. All so unfamiliar. He picked up a shirt and sniffed it, and ignored a woman who was staring at him as if he had just ripped off his clothes in the middle of the damn store. He just wanted to see what it  _ smelled like. _

But once he looked at her, he realized that a good number of other people were looking at him - just casually, glancing at him as they passed by - but it set him on edge, and he found himself walking on the edges of the store, jerking involuntarily whenever someone brushed past him.

However, he did find a shirt that he liked. It was black, and it was soft. 

“Everything all right, sir?” someone asked.

He spun around, swallowing and backing up until his back hit a wall.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to startle you,” she said, laughing as if someone had just told a funny joke. She was tall, wearing a blazer and horn-rimmed glasses. And a ridiculous, false, purple-lipped smile. 

Loki let out a huff, annoyed at himself. He stepped away from the wall and muttered, “Leave me, mortal.”

He had just enough time to see her jaw drop in an impressive imitation of a fish out of water, before he turned and stalked away. It took every ounce of self-control he had to walk through the crowd, and to not flinch every time he accidentally brushed against someone.

When he saw Tony, he was appalled at the amount of relief he felt.

But that didn’t change the fact that he felt it.

Or that, as soon as Tony grinned and grabbed his hand, nearly all of the anxiety seemed to simply disappear. Like magic.

Although it was difficult to remind himself that they were wearing glamours, of a man and a woman, so no one would find it strange that they were holding hands. Nevertheless, Loki was tempted to pull away. It felt so… wrong, to be showing off this closeness, in such a public place. They had done it on the Mont Royal, but that was different, somehow. 

Tony seemed perfectly at ease, and his mood was infectious, so Loki allowed himself to relax, although that little pinprick of guilt continued to gnaw at the back of his mind.

When they reached the counter, Loki ripped his hand out of Tony’s and folded them both behind his back. Impressively, the cashier’s wide smile never wavered. Tony dumped all of their clothes onto the counter, and within a few minutes they were each carrying an enormous plastic bag of clothes. Which were basically all Tony’s, as Loki had only gotten the one shirt.

“Good haul,” Tony said, opening his to inspect the contents as they walked, as if he hadn’t just bought them. “Oh, and the weirdest thing happened,” he said, grabbing Loki’s shoulder with his other hand to make him stop walking. “This dude was totally ogling me. And I mean, I get ogled all the time, by men and women, obviously - I’m Iron Man.” He started walking again, and so Loki trailed along beside him. “But it was different. Not different, different, but I  _ knew _ it was different, which made it different.”

“You… receive male attention often?” Loki asked, having ignored all the rest of Tony’s story in favor of focusing on that one detail. 

“Oh, yeah. All the time. I mean, I am pretty attractive,” Tony said, shrugging. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket as they left the store. Then he stopped suddenly, looking around. “Where the hell did I park? Oh. Yeah. Weird bendy tree.”

“And this does not… insult you?” Loki asked, hesitantly, as Tony pulled him along the street. Someone brushed past him, and he flinched away, which caused Tony to pull him closer and squeeze his hand. It was probably automatic, because when he spoke he sounded angry, and no longer in a hand-squeezing mood.

“Hell… no, what the fuck are you talking about? Seriously?” He stepped away from Loki, letting go of his hand, leaving Loki standing alone in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, with his heart thudding in his chest. “God. Vikings. Should’ve expected… but I thought at least  _ you _ might be smarter than that.” He closed his eyes, pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead.

It took Loki a second or two to realize why Tony was angry, and then he managed to calm down enough to grab Tony’s wrist and say, “That’s not what I meant. Perhaps things are different here than in Asgard. I think we’re just miscommunicating.”

“We better be,” Tony said, before reluctantly turning to drag Loki along again. “C’mon, the car isn’t far, and we shouldn’t have this conversation here; we’ll clog up the sidewalk.”

Once they got in the car, the first thing Tony did was hand Loki the thermos. “Drink some,” he said.

Loki ignored the little voice in his head that told him how weak he must be that he needed someone else to force him to eat, because he couldn’t do it himself.

Tony watched him silently as he drank. Loki took a few gulps, and when he was done, Tony shook his head. “Nope. You’ve gotta be thirsty; we were in there for a long time. Drink a little more.”

“I’m not thirsty,” Loki said, to the dashboard, feeling like a piece of dirt.

“Are you hungry?” Tony asked, sounding desperate. “I’ll get you anything you want. Anything.”

“No.”

Tony let out a sigh. “Okay. Okay, then. So what was that all about? All of…” he gestured towards the window. “That.”

“Nothing,” Loki said, rubbing circles in his forehead with his pointer finger, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s just different on Asgard. I assumed it would be the same here. It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Tony muttered, under his breath. “Y’know what… it’s… it’s… it’s been a hell of a day. I mean, this was fun, but I’m ready to go. Are you? Ready to… ready to go? Probably. I think I’ll just drive. Yeah.” He turned the key and the car started with an electronic hum. “We should probably go. S’just… nerves are high. Today.” He put the car into gear. “Not the right time. For anything. Don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.”

He stopped, and dropped his forehead down onto the steering wheel.

Loki hesitated, eyeing the way his knuckles were white on the wheel. Then, tentatively, he put a hand on his shoulder. “It was a wonderful idea.”

“Thanks,” Tony muttered, his voice muffled because his mouth was squished against the center of the steering wheel. “Thanks, bud.”

“You are welcome,” Loki whispered, staring at him. 

Tony sat up with another sigh, and with a growl, the car sped out of the parking lot and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally - the secret’s out! Show of hands as to how many of you think that this means Loki’s gonna eat responsibly from now on, and that I won’t milk this for angst for as long as I possibly can. No one? Okay.  
> Also, even the re-do (which was SUPPOSED to be fluffier than it ended up being, I swear) ended up being depressing. I’m SORRY. I can’t - I can’t write fluff. Okay? I can’t write happy scenes. The most I can muster is like a paragraph or two of banter or like post-nightmare cuddles and that’s IT.  
> And I was gonna say something like “don’t worry, there’s fluff later” but knowing me I’ll reread the rest of this thing and realize that the parts I thought were fluff are really depressing too so I’m not gonna say that.  
> There’s… depressing parts in later chapters that are slightly less depressing than most of the other depressing parts.  
> Okay, I’m done now.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF.  
> And I swear I’m not lying. I checked, I reread it and I can say with 100% certainty that there is ACTUAL goddamn fluff in this chapter. I'm actually a little worried that it got a bit TOO fluffy there and got a bit sappy and cheesy but... you'll have to judge that for yourself. Apparently my fluff tolerance is, like, really low.   
> Anyway, enjoy the fluffy angst!! :D

He could handle this.

He  _ had to.  _ Because the last thing Loki needed right now was for Tony to fall apart. 

The truth was, Loki had no one else. As much as he would likely hate to admit it, he only had Tony. Only Tony. 

But as soon as they got home, Tony handed Loki an apple and said he wanted him to eat it, and Loki shrank away from him, breathing hard, which didn’t make any sense because it was just an  _ apple _ , and Tony didn’t know what the hell he did wrong. He stared at Loki, trying to figure it out. 

_ I’m not some machine you can fix, Stark! _

“It’s not your fault,” Loki said, softly, when he saw how Tony was still looking down at the apple in his hand.

And Tony hated how the guy was so damn perceptive.

“Not yours, either,” Tony said, quickly, unsure what he was referring to.

They both looked away, and the air hung heavy with a semi-awkward silence.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Tony said, although he knew that he wouldn’t. Because he knew what he needed. How had he not figured it out before? 

And hopefully, after he had some time to himself in his workshop, this would all become perfectly clear. He could figure this out. He could help Loki. That was what he had set out to do from the beginning. He wasn’t going to fail now.

So they laid down on the couch together, as if it was normal. Loki curled into himself, arms wrapped around his chest in what was probably a defensive position. About twenty minutes later, once Tony was certain that Loki was asleep, he carefully got up from the couch without waking him, in a way that reminded him of how he had untangled himself from Jennifer, nearly two weeks ago (although it felt like years). And although he hadn’t even been touching Loki, and definitely hadn’t had sex with him, this felt more intimate. More important. Just more.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at him. The arc reactor cast a very faint glow, and it wasn’t enough to allow him to really see Loki’s face. Nothing but the curve of his shoulders, the lines of his arms, hands, a foot that stuck out from under the blanket.

He wondered how skinny Loki actually was.

If he looked like a skeleton.

How much did he weigh?

And how bad could it have gotten, if he had never decided to let Tony know? Would he have… just wasted away? 

Tony went to the stairs. The dull  _ thud, thud, thud _ as he descended them was soothing. And then he flung open the door to the workshop, which was small, and bare, and blank.

But it felt like  _ home. _

And for a moment, all Tony could do was lean back against the door, and close his eyes, and breathe. 

And when he opened his eyes again, he felt something growing, growing in his chest. Heavy and cold like a piece of iron.

No matter how long he spent down here, building god-knows-what, Pepper would never come through that door with a clipboard on her arm to yell at him. He had long since stopped kissing her, but he would take a simple touch, or a hug… or even a lecture. Just her voice, her  _ real _ voice, not through a phone speaker. Not full of tears. 

Rhodey would never come down here to check on him, to talk to him, to crack a stupid joke with him. To face-palm at some stupid thing he did. 

Tony laughed at Rhodey’s expression. Well, at what it would be. If he could see Tony, now.  _ “Didn’t your father ever teach you to think things through before you act?”  _ And what would Happy say? Pepper? Hopefully something funny. Hopefully, they would come to understand, if they got the chance.

He missed Bruce, too. Almost… not that there was a ranking, but… there was a Bruce-shaped hole in his heart, and damn, did it hurt, more than any of the others. Because he didn’t know what Bruce would say, but he  _ wanted _ to know, and he wished that he could know, and order them some pizza, and chat about some stupid science thing, and… and they should have gotten to know each other better, when they still had the chance.

He pressed down hard on his eyes, until little shapes and squiggles burst into life beneath his eyelids. And he folded his arms over his face, breathing into the insides of his elbows. All of a sudden it felt like his knees had given out, and he slid down to the floor.

He didn’t stay there for long. In a few seconds, he was at his workbench, grabbing a hammer and turning it in his hands.

()()()

“It’s a mug,” he said, when all Loki did was stare at the offering Tony pushed into his hands. “Made out of metal. A metal mug. Cause, y’know, I work with metal, so I made it out of metal. You better use it, even if you don’t like it, or I’m gonna be really upset.”

Loki covered his mouth with one hand, and he remained standing there staring at the mug until Tony couldn’t take it anymore, and said, “So do you like it? Or not? I made it black because, you know, I assumed you like black because you’re all emo, but maybe I was wrong and you want a different color, in which case…”

Loki pressed his finger against Tony’s lips. “Idiot mortal,” he managed to say, with a voice that was strangely hoarse and strained. “You’re so stupid. So stupid. Why did you make this?”

“For you,” Tony said, through Loki’s finger which was still pressed against his mouth, and which made his words come out all muffled and shmushed. 

“Why,” Loki said, his eyes dropping down to the mug again.

Tony shrugged. “Cause you need your own mug. Everyone needs their own mug.”  _ Especially you. _

“You didn’t have to,” Loki said.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure why he did, but it felt right. “Obviously. I wanted to. Okay?”

Loki shook his head. “You didn’t have to do any of this. You’ve… you’ve lost so much.”

Well… Yeah, he had. Tony had lost a lot - his friends, his company, his home. He missed it all, and it hurt. It didn’t hurt physically, but it still hurt. Like a magical wound - like a magical dagger to the chest, he felt it any time he moved.

Tony shook his head.

“Got you,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“I’ve got…” he took a breath. He wasn’t good at this. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. And that’s a hell of a gain.” He grabbed a glass of whisky from the counter, and snapped his fingers as he pointed at the mug in Loki’s hands, avoiding his eyes. “Make yourself some tea. With protein powder,” he said, as he walked away.

()()()

He wasn’t sure why, but at every chance he got, it seemed like he was finding some way to touch Loki - whether a hand on his shoulder, or an arm around him. Once he even brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes, and he swore he saw Loki smile.

When he woke up the next morning, he found that he had wrapped his arms around Loki during the night, nuzzled his face into his shoulder. He pulled away quickly, of course, and he was fairly certain that when Loki woke up a few minutes later, he had no idea that it had happened.

But…

Well.

It was confusing, to say the least. The very, very least. There was much more that could have been said on the matter, but Tony stubbornly ignored all of those things.

That next day, Loki had a panic attack.

It came up out of nowhere. One second they were sitting together on the couch, and Loki was picking at the eggs Tony had made them. The next, he had dropped his fork and buried his face in his knees, struggling to breathe.

So Tony hugged him, because he had done it before, and it seemed like the right thing to do.

When Loki had finally come out of his panicked state, for the most part, Tony began to pull away, but Loki grabbed him and pulled him back. 

“You want me to stay?” Tony asked.

Loki nodded against his chest.

So after that, now that it seemed like Loki had put hugs on the list of “Things That are Usually Allowed”,Tony hugged him whenever he felt like it. Which was often, for some reason. He usually wasn’t this touchy, and he usually hardly ever hugged people. But he hugged Loki a lot.

And Loki hugged him back.

And it was so goddamn nice.

But Tony was caught off guard. He had never felt like this before, and he wasn’t even sure what  _ this _ was supposed to be. He didn’t hug people just for the hell of it. Whatever his relationship with Loki was, it wasn’t anything Tony had experienced before. He had had a few close friends during his life, but they had never been this intimate, had never touched each other so often or so closely. And his closest romantic relationship - which had been with Pepper - hadn’t been like this either. He had never been content to simply spend the day watching movies with her, or just walking through a city and talking with her. At the very least, at the end of the night, they would have had sex.

But he didn’t want that with Loki.

Not only because Loki was a rape victim, although that was certainly part of it.

But this,  _ this, _ was fine. He was content with this.

He still missed Pepper, of course. And the others. He missed them so much. And it hurt when he was alone, much worse than it hurt when Loki was there.

But this was enough for now.

()()()

Despite all that, for a brief second, it was still a relief when he got a voicemail from Pepper on his phone.

And after that brief second, all feelings of relief were gone.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked, from beside him.

_ How the hell did he know? _

“Nothing,” Tony said, quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

_ “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” _ was the first thing Pepper said. Tony sat down on the floor, back against the wall, and cupped a hand against the side of the phone, in order to hear every word.  _ “Why the hell am I doing this? I should be… I shouldn’t be doing this. _

_ “You know, they say I’m going crazy,”  _ she laughed brokenly, and Tony rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm.  _ “Gone mad with grief, or something. That’s why they think I… still have some hope. That you’ll be found. But they haven’t even tried, Tony!” _

Tony looked at the ground.

_ “What did he do to you? Are you hurt? Bleeding? Where  _ are _ you? Please, Tony. You didn’t pick up so I know you’re gone but goddammit, find a way to respond!” _

As her voice grew more desperate, more hysterical, Tony bowed his head, closed his eyes.

_ “We were supposed to… to have all… everything you promised…”  _ she was crying now.  _ “But it’s been two weeks and the world’s given up and they tried everything, to find you, but you were gone. And no one cares anymore.  _

_ “But I know that when you… when you made me CEO… you never meant for me to do it alone. So you’ll come back. You’ll come back. That’s what I keep telling everyone and they don’t believe me but I  _ know _ you will, because you’re Tony Stark and that’s what you do.” _

There was a pause.

_ “I… I have to go. There’s… meetings. And I know you can’t hear me, but it feels nice to…”  _

There was a longer, more drawn out pause. He could hear her shaky intake of breath before she spoke.

_ “Goodbye, Tony.” _

The line clicked, and Pepper was gone.

()()()

He returned to the living room to find that Loki was standing in the middle of it, watching him. Wordlessly, he stepped forward and wrapped Tony up into a hug.

“Hnngh,” Tony said, because he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Mmm. Well spoken,” Loki said. 

“How’d you know I was about to have a meltdown?”

“Your mortal emotions are so painfully obvious.”

Tony didn’t know what the difference was between ‘mortal’ emotions and ‘godly’ ones. But he didn’t press the issue.

“Your face goes all scrunchy,” Loki continued.

“What?”

“And your forehead looks like a wrinkled blanket. And your eyes always water.”

“Yeah, but it’s cute,” Tony said, into Loki’s shoulder. “See, I’m a bad boy but I’m sensitive. Women dig that.”

“I’m not a woman.”

“Yeah, but you know you dig it,” Tony mumbled, hyper-aware of the conversation topic. And of the fact that Loki smelled like… lavender.

“You used the girl soap!” he cried. His voice… well, it didn’t  _ crack _ (of course it didn’t crack. Totally didn’t crack) but it did sort of… rise an octave. “The one in the cupboard that I have in case I’m running from the government but also happen to have a one night stand who wants to wash her hair but refuses to have it smell like some obscure but sexy kind of wood. You used it!”

“Mmm,” Loki rested his chin on Tony’s head. “Well, I’ve always been known to prefer things that smell decent over things that smell like someone stepped in dung, cut off their own foot, ground it up, and poured it into a bottle.”

“That was vulgar.”

“But it was accurate.”

“No. That stuff probably cost at least eighty bucks. And hey, are you saying I smell bad?”

Loki made a show of inhaling deeply, and of drawing away as if he had been burned. He wrinkled his nose. “I’m about to throw up.”

“No you aren’t!” Tony cried, laughing like a little kid, and feeling like one, too, when he punched Loki playfully on the shoulder. 

Immediately, Tony froze, worried that this would bring on a flashback.

But all Loki did was narrow his eyes and punch Tony back, much harder. Tony gave a wheezing exhale/grunt, and clutched his shoulder dramatically. “Wow, Reindeer Games, I think you’ve mortally wounded me.”

“I’ll have to heal it then, won’t I? Hold still,” Loki ordered. He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, rooted him to the spot.

And leaned in.

And for one dazzling, confusing, mortifying second, Tony was convinced that Loki was going to kiss him.

But instead, he pressed his forehead to Tony’s, and closed his eyes. Tony did likewise. And all he felt was Loki’s impossibly warm breath on his skin, the fluttering of his eyelashes on the bridge of his nose, until a swell of magic rose up stronger than ever before, and the most beautiful feeling of  _ peace _ overcame him.

It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Tony couldn’t even come up with anything to say. He just stood there as Loki’s magic rushed through him in wave after wave, swept him off his feet, and left him dangling in the middle of the sky.

()()()

“You miss your friends,” Loki stated, as soon as he had pulled his magic away, leaving Tony empty and sputtering and breathless.

But Loki’s eyes were solemn and sad.

Tony looked down to find that they were holding hands. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Loki pursed his lips. “You were happier before all of this.”

_ No _ , Tony opened his mouth to say.  _ No, of course I wasn’t happier.  _

But he stopped himself.

He wasn’t going to lie.

His life was a mess now. He could handle it, of course. And in the end, everything would turn out all right. But before, there had been some sense of control, of safety, in the monotony that followed him like a shadow, and seeped its dull, lifeless darkness into everything.

And, of course, there had been other people to talk to, which was nice. And he hadn’t appreciated having that until it was gone.

But he hadn’t had this, either.

He hadn’t had anything like Loki.

And Loki was…

Something.

Good.

Something good.

“I was happy before,” he said, carefully. “But I’m happy now, too. Trust me,” he laughed a little, and leaned his forehead onto Loki’s chest. “If I wasn’t happy, I’d be drunk right now. I’d be constantly drunk. I’d be  _ awful.” _

“Hmm,” Loki said. 

“What do you want?” Tony asked. The question came up out of nowhere, and he didn’t look at Loki’s face, instead turned his head to the side, closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of lavender.

Loki took a long while to answer. But when he did, he sounded completely certain. “Revenge.”

“Oh, revenge is  _ sweet,” _ Tony said. “Did I tell you about how I blew up all the terrorists when I escaped? I used the flamethrower on them, too! And I laughed my ass off about a month later, during a random meeting. I just started laughing, out of nowhere. It freaked everyone out but I didn’t care.”

Tony closed his eyes, and smiled, completely aware of the fact that the right side of his face was squished into Loki’s shoulder. Loki had such a sharp collarbone…

“What would you do to him?” he asked, suddenly.

Loki’s arms stiffened around him. “I have many different plans,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “The one I dwell on most often is strangulation. I’d love to hear his neck snap. But I think I would burn an image of my face into his stomach, first, with a hot piece of iron. You could make it for me.”

“That’s horrible,” Tony said.

He could feel Loki shrug. “Perhaps I would cut off his stomach-skin and hang it on my bedroom wall.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tony said, snorting. “But so  _ you.” _

“Although, I would want his skin to be a different color. Not purple. Or flesh-colored. Perhaps… pink. I’ve always despised pink. Or perhaps I wouldn’t do that at all. Maybe I wouldn’t want to have to look at any part of him. Maybe I would bury his body somewhere disgusting. Or throw it to a pack of hungry wolves.”

“Tha’s good,” Tony said. “I‘m tired. I can handle this. But I’m tired. Long day.”

So Loki pulled him over to the couch, and Tony laid down, resting his head uncomfortably on the inside of his elbow. He felt Loki curl up like a cat next to him, and drape a blanket over them both, but he didn’t open his eyes.

()()()

The next morning, he woke up first. So he carefully crawled off the couch, went to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. He also made some tea for Loki, and he put two pieces of toast in the toaster.

When he looked back at the couch, Loki was sitting up, one hand on his head.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Tony said, leaning against the table. “Your hair looks like a birds’ nest.”

Loki looked at him, a panicked expression in his eyes. Tony braced himself for whatever was going to come next, but instead, Loki said, “Did you have a nightmare?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“No,” he said. “Actually, no. I slept like a baby. How about you?”

“I… I did sleep. I slept well.”

“You okay?” Tony asked, just to be sure.

Loki nodded.

And they spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms, drawing comfort from the warmth of having another body so close. For an hour or two, they lay tangled up on the couch, and Tony spent a large amount of it running his fingers through Loki’s hair. Loki hissed whenever one of Tony’s fingers caught on a knot. “If it wasn’t such a bird’s nest, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Tony said.

“If you let me go, I could brush it.”

“Hell no. You are staying right here,” Tony said.  _ I am  _ not _ letting you go. _

And Loki managed to eat about half of a piece of toast, which was amazing. Tony grinned like an idiot, and Loki scowled at him. So when Loki then proceeded to take a leftover carton of fried rice out of the fridge and eat nearly a quarter of it, Tony had a difficult time pretending not to care, when what he wanted to do was run over to him and hug him so tightly that he couldn’t breathe.

But he managed.

And about five minutes after Loki had put the rice back in the fridge and sat back down on the couch, Tony scooted over next to him and hugged him, anyway.

“You are insufferable,” Loki said, holding his arms up and looking down at Tony as if he was a strangely shaped, but easily squashable bug crawling across his silken, princely sleeve.

“Ngh,” Tony said. He had begun using words less and less, substituting them for various grunts and hums. “You are warm.”

“Turn up the thermostat.”

Tony snorted into Loki’s chest. “It’s funny when you use human words,” he mumbled.

Loki gave a breathy, drawn-out sigh that clearly said,  _ I’m giving up.  _ “How you can be a genius, and at the same time such an idiot, is beyond me.”

Tony shrugged - awkwardly, because Loki had finally given in and hugged him back, and it was hard to shrug when someone’s arms were wrapped around your shoulders - and shifted his face upward to bury it in the crook of Loki’s neck.

“Sleepy,” Tony said.

“You realize that we’ve spent the entire day on this couch? And that you’ve spent all of it trying to trick me into hugging you?”

“Can’t think of a better way to spend the day,” Tony said.

And later, he would think that he had imagined it, but in the moment he swore he felt Loki pull him closer and whisper, “Me neither.”

Perhaps the reason he couldn’t remember exactly was because that was when Thor came back, and all his thoughts burst into pieces as if they had been struck with a hammer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated over whether to take out that last sentence and spare you all… but then I decided to leave it in >:)
> 
> Anyway, piningggg!! Oh, and you just know that I’m gonna draw this out for as long as I possibly can, and that it’ll be AGONIZING. >:)  
> (Just kidding I don’t think it’s THAT bad. Honestly eventually I was over it too and was just like “get over yourselves and confess your undying love for each other already!!) hehe, so you won’t have to wait toooo long… ( >:) )
> 
> Oh and in the last chapter I forgot to mention that the tea with protein powder thing was inspired by uh Under the Coat by Loopy456 (where Sherlock has anorexia). And the smoothie might have been somewhat inspire by The Prestige by black_feater_fiction where Loki drinks protein shakes? I say that all this is inspired because honestly otherwise I think I would have had absolutely no clue what to have him eat. I’m definitely not an expert in this area. So, please take everything I say with a grain of salt, lol.  
> Oh, and comments would be greatly appreciated :) They always make my day, and I love hearing from you guys and talking with you!! (super-long comment threads with my readers are my favorite things ever) :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii! Here's the resulting drama from that really mean cliff hanger in the last chapter, lol. Hope you like!  
> (And thanks for all your comments, ily all so much <3)  
> enjoy the angst!!

They both saw Thor land with a mighty crash outside the window. 

Tony pulled away with a jerk, and Loki could barely breathe, barely think, but he still managed to grab his shoulders and pull him back, saying (pleading, begging), “No, stay, stay, stay.”

“Whatever you want,” Tony said, scooting over and letting Loki curl up beside him, rest his head on the arc reactor on his chest.

Then Thor broke through the door with a swing of his hammer. His actual entrance, however, was much less dramatic, and much quieter. He entered almost cautiously, and he spoke quietly when he said, “Loki? Stark? Am I welcome here?”

His voice cut off abruptly when he saw them.

And Loki closed his eyes tightly, burying his face in Tony’s chest, hating his damned weakness and hating the memories that always returned exactly when he didn’t want them. Why could he remember the horrible things so  _ vividly _ , and the good things so… dimly?

Because suddenly, he didn’t remember anything but Thor’s wide, wide smile, his hands on Loki’s shoulders, Frigga’s eyes… the taste… burning - mouth watering - and salt and vomit and tears and all of it, all of it, everything, too much, too much…  _ thud, thud, thud. _

He wrapped his arms around Tony, desperately, because Tony was the one thing he could cling to. In this raging whirlpool of dark water, Tony was the only thing keeping him from being sucked under, down and down, into that void.

(How pathetic.)

“What are you doing?” he heard Thor say. Thor’s voice.  _ No one will ever hurt you again. _

Silently, Loki recited in his mind.

And he hadn’t recited in such a long time.

_ The heart is beautiful _

_ The heart is beautiful _

_ The heart is  _ beautiful _ , beautiful, beautiful. _

“I think you should go wait upstairs,” Tony said.

There was a pause.

“Go upstairs, Thor.”

Another pause.

And…

“He’s gone,” Tony said. “He’s gone, Loki. It’s just us. I promise.”

Loki shook his head, gripping Tony’s shirt in his hands. “I can’t. Can’t do this. Can’t see him. I’m so…” he shut his mouth with a snap.  _ Weak. Pathetic. Stupid. _

“No, you aren’t,” Tony said, rubbing circles in Loki’s back. “You’re fine. You’re okay.” 

_ You're broken. _

Why couldn't Tony understand this?

Understand that Loki would _ never _ be able to look at his brother again without having a panic attack, would  _ never  _ be able to talk or joke or argue or laugh with him, and he would  _ never _ again be able to explain spell-casting to Thor while he sat cross-legged on Loki's floor pretending to listen.

Loki was done.

Done, with the pretending, the pretending that everything was going to be all right and that somehow, someday, he would get better, would be himself again, would be fixed.

He couldn't even look at Thor.

His brother.

_ Thor. _

"You're okay," Tony kept saying, pulling him closer, sounding so convinced... how dare he?

How dare he pretend that he was telling the truth?

"Liar," Loki said, shoving Tony away with shaking hands. "You know that's not true. Just stop."

"Stop what?" Tony asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, pulling away when Loki flinched. "Hey. Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you. You're okay, Loki."

Loki stiffened when all he heard was Thor’s voice.  _ No one will ever hurt you again. _

He was supposed to be okay.

He had meant to be okay, to remain strong, unbroken. He was going to escape Thanos and he was going to have his revenge, to laugh in the faces of his captors - it wasn't supposed to be like this!

But he wasn't.

Wasn't okay.

Would never be okay.

He failed.

But despite that, Tony had the audacity to keep pretending that there was some part of Loki that could be salvaged, that could be rescued, that was worth protecting, worth touching, worth talking to...

_ Open your mouth, my pet. You know that this is all you will ever be good for. _

Loki closed his eyes. Trying to breathe.

Couldn't breathe.

Crossed his arms over his chest. Shuddered - no, hide it, hide it. Went still. But shivers still wracked his body, shivers of a horrible warmth, and they liked it when he shivered, they thought it was  _ funny. _

"Hey, Loki? Just tell me what to do. Should I leave? Stay? What do you want? Help me out here," Tony said.

It was Tony. Just Tony. And Tony was real, he knew that Tony was real. It was the one thing that he knew. The only thing. The rest he had forgotten, because he was so stupid, but at least he had remembered this.

"Hey. Just match my breathing. Try to follow my breathing. Okay? Okay?"

"Can't," Loki said, as he spiraled out of control. "Can't. I'm too stupid. Too stupid. Useless."

His eyes snapped open when Tony touched him on the shoulder, looking worriedly into his eyes. "You're not stupid, Lokes. You're fine. Doing fine."

"Stop lying!" Loki yelled, shoving Tony away again. "Stop lying! He won, Tony, he won, he broke me and I'll never be whole again, and..." he wiped at his eyes - weak, weak, weak - and then it rose up in his throat, in his head, behind his eyes, that heat, numb, pain... he was crying.

Not outright. Not blubbering like he had so many times in that throne room, but the tears built up behind his eyes and in his breath and his shaking hands, making everything blurry.

"I'm sorry. I'm pathetic."

Loki stood up.

"No," Tony said, standing up as well, grabbing his wrist, making Loki flinch but not letting go. "Don't go. You can't go. God, Loki, you have to stay here."

Loki stared at him. Shaking, all over.

"Why would you want me to stay?" he asked. "And don't lie, Tony," he growled, grabbing Tony's other wrist in his left hand. "I have had my fill of lies."

Tony stood on tiptoe, resting his forehead against Loki's.

"Because I care about you," he said. "I told you before. I actually care. After all this time - it was inevitable, I guess. I didn't expect to start to care about you. To even like you. But I do. And you are strong, Loki, you are strong, and smart, and... and god, you have to stop saying all that awful shit about yourself because - and I know you can't see it, but - you're the guy who was sent to hell and… and didn’t let it burn him up," Tony laughed vaguely, Idiotically. 

Tony was an  _ idiot.  _ Tony was  _ wrong. _

"Stop," Loki said. He shoved Tony away again, and looked at the ground. "Just stop." And he turned on his heel, slipping away before Tony had time to grab his hand, and make him stay.

()()()

He needed a safe place.

He needed to be  _ alone. _

So he had gone to “his” room, sat down on “his” bed, resting his elbows on his knees and looking out the window.

Wondering…

The Void, the Chitauri, Thanos, SHIELD, the drop from the window, all those battles and knives and… and all of it. 

The Void.

“I let go,” he murmured, to the sun. “Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

Suddenly he was on his feet.

“I let go!” he yelled, tangling his fingers in his hair. “None of this was meant to happen.”

None of it.

At all.

When that Frost Giant touched him, it was supposed to burn. When Thanos hurt him, it wasn’t supposed to break him. When he fell from the Void…

Loki practically fell to the floor, suddenly feeling like all of the energy had been sapped from his body, as if his magic was dying again. He rested his forehead on one of his knees, closing his eyes against the brightness of the sun.

“I think,” he said, hating the Norns and their godforsaken silk. “I was supposed to die.”

Ever since his fall into the Void, everything had gotten worse, and worse, in directions he could never have imagined back when he was  _ Loki. _ Were the Norns trying to tell him something? Trying to tell him to just give up and  _ die already _ , as he should have so long ago?

“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” he said. “And I know it doesn’t matter. You don’t give a damn about what I  _ meant _ to do. And, anyway, I deserve your anger.”

He had always been hated - but he always deserved it, because he had always been just a little bit  _ wrong. _ Everything about him was wrong, making him stick out like a thorn in a bush of roses. 

“But why…” he trailed off. 

_ Why couldn’t they have just made him  _ right?

“I’ll have you know that I do not crave bloodshed as you do,” he said, clenching his fists. “I was always, always trying to stop Thor and his friends from killing, from starting foolish battles, and they hated me for it, of course, but I…” he picked at one of his fingernails. “Couldn’t understand why. 

“The only reason I wanted to destroy Jotunheim in the first place was because I couldn’t  _ stand _ the thought of those  _ monsters  _ existing, _ ”  _ he started to pace, in ferocious circles. “Once I knew that I was one of them!” He laughed brokenly. “I suppose I wanted to die the very instant I saw my skin turn blue,” he spat the word like it was a curse.

“And you may think that I  _ enjoyed _ leading the Chitauri in that catastrophe of an invasion against earth, that I enjoyed submitting my power and my will to Thanos and allowing him to use me like I was just another sword to impale his enemies on but either I was drunk or drugged or… or just an idiot because I  _ don’t remember any of it!”  _ he shot to his feet, yelling at nothing, at no one, because no one was listening.

No one cared.

But Loki shook his head, banishing all his self-pitying thoughts because they never did anyone any good.

“I do not think Thanos will be the only one afraid of me, in the end,” Loki said, running his tongue over his teeth, stalking over to the window and placing both of his palms against the glass. “I think that you will cower before me, because  _ I want revenge.” _

After all, it wasn’t his fault if the weavers of fate happened to be incompetent.

“I may not be as strong as I once was,” he said, backing away from the wall. “Or as smart, and  _ sure,”  _ he spun in a vicious circle, before slamming both of his fists against the wall again. “I have been  _ humiliated _ , time and time again but  _ know this _ \- I will not stop until I have destroyed your precious silken-spun strings of fate, and I will use them to  _ wring your fucking necks!” _

And he stormed out of his room, slammed the door, and headed upstairs to where he knew Thor was waiting for him.

()()()

Tony intercepted him just as Loki pressed the  _ up _ button, wringing his hands and saying, nervously, “Uh, you do remember… I mean, Thor’s upstairs, and you shouldn’t…”

“Kindly do us both a favor and shut up,” Loki said, getting into the elevator and watching as the doors closed in Tony’s face.

The slow climb upwards was agony. The walk through the hallway was excruciating.

He endured it regardless. 

And he opened the door without hesitation.

Thor was sitting slumped in an armchair, with a bottle of beer at his side. But when Loki entered, he sat up quickly, his eyes going bright with more emotion than Loki had thought him capable of. “Loki?” he breathed, making the word into a question even though he knew Loki was right there - surely he knew, because he could see him for himself.

Loki raised his chin, glancing at the blank, dark blue walls, and the unmade bed. Anywhere but at Thor. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of panic. He didn’t want to fall.

He adjusted his cuff, cleared his throat. He was wearing the suit Tony had given him, and yes, it made him feel more secure.  _ Focus on that. _

But when Thor stood up, Loki tensed, taking an automatic step back. “Sit down, Thor,” he ordered, still not looking at him.

Slowly, Thor slumped back down in his seat. 

“That night,” Loki began, “The night I spent explaining spellcasting to you - the only reason you came into my room was to ask me a question. What was that question?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Answer me,” Loki said, clenching his fists stiffly at his sides.

“I… asked what you wanted to have for dinner,” Thor said, quietly.

Loki allowed himself to relax, however slightly. Even though he had known that Thor was real,  _ had to be real,  _ this proof still put him at ease.

“Loki, what are you…?” Thor tried, but stopped when Loki held up a hand.

“No questions,” he said. “No questions, no yelling, no useless assurances that everything will be all right and for fuck’s sake, don’t  _ touch _ me.”

Thor slumped even further down in his seat. “I understand.”

Loki nodded sharply. “Good. It happens far too rarely.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said.

“No apologies, either,” Loki snapped, keeping his eyes on Mjolnir, which Thor had left lying on its side in the corner as if it was a briefcase or an umbrella instead of an all-powerful, lightning-harnessing hammer forged from a dying star.

“I’m… uh,” Thor said. “Loki, I… last time I saw you…”

“There will be no mentions of the last time we saw each other.”

“Then what can I talk about?” Thor asked, throwing up his hands and laughing awkwardly as if something about this was funny. 

Loki glanced at him sharply, just in time to see Thor cross his arms broadly, scoffing until he noticed that Loki had looked at him. “No questions, I said.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Loki, I…”

“ _ No apologies,” _ Loki hissed. “In fact, don’t even talk. Were you always this idiotic? Don’t answer that,” he said, daring to come further into the room, stopping a few feet from where Thor was sitting. His damn hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Loki looked at the wall again, focusing on breathing slowly.

An awkward silence descended, which Loki spent pulling himself back together. He would not break down again. He would not humiliate himself further. 

“Right,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking, and reluctantly dragging his gaze back to Thor. “You can talk now.”

Thor grinned.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Loki said, sharply, looking away again. “Don’t smile like that. And by the Nine - sit… straighter. No need to spread your legs so much, you look like you’re… a… an idiot,” he finished feebly.

Thor did as Loki asked, without questioning it.

Thor looked serious now, and he was sitting with one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing Midgardian clothes, instead of his Asgardian armor and ridiculous cape. But he had the same face.

Loki’s heart thudded in his chest.

Why, why,  _ why _ couldn’t he forget?

“Thank you,” he said, because this was as good as it was going to get. “ _ Now _ you may speak.”

“I am so happy to see you,” Thor said.

Loki could not say the same without lying, so he did not respond.

“I know that this year has not been kind to you. And I regret to say that I believed, along with everyone else, that you had done ill to Stark, but I now understand that…”

“Year,” Loki said. 

Thor’s brows furrowed, and he leaned back in his chair. “Aye. You were gone for little over a year. Perhaps in Midgard it was less, but… it…” Thor’s eyes were watering now.

Loki didn’t care.

“No,” he said, taking an unconscious step back. “I was only gone for several months. Thor, I counted the days. I never lost count. It was… I think it was…” 

He couldn’t remember.

He let out a growl of frustration, balling his hands into fists, turning away from Thor so he couldn’t see. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember. But it hadn’t been years. He knew it hadn’t. Couldn’t have been.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor stand up. 

Immediately he whirled around, backing away towards the corner with one hand up, the other tangled tightly in his hair. “Sit down!” he yelled, and Thor did. 

Loki’s chest heaved.

He closed his eyes, hating it, hating it,  _ why couldn’t he just work right? _

“Are you…” Thor began, cutting off abruptly.

“You meant months. You meant months, didn’t you?” he asked, turning to Thor with wild eyes. “You meant months. I was only gone for a few months. I was only… ninety days? Three months?”

Thor remained staring at him, silently, as if frozen to the spot.

"By the Norns, Thor," Loki breathed, covering his mouth with his shaking hands.

How much had he forgotten?

A year of his life... was a year of his life just  _ gone? _ Sucked away into that dark void of his mind, the void that just kept devouring and devouring everything in its path, leaving nothing left… if that was true, then they could have done anything,  _ anything _ to him during that time and he wouldn’t know.

"In Asgard, it was one year, two months, fourteen days," Thor said. "I counted, as well. I am certain of the number."

"Can't be," Loki mumbled, unable to breathe properly, unable to keep his damn hands from shaking. "That can't be right. I wasn't gone that long. You're lying."

Thor shook his head, straightening in his seat. "I would never lie to you."

And the cruelty of that statement was enough to make Loki's eyes water, his mind eagerly forcing him back into that dark cell, kneeling as Thor grinned above him, grinning and grinning and...

Loki moved almost without realizing he was doing it - mumbled something and grabbed the door handle, slipping out of the room just in time, for the instant he shut the door his facade crumbled. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing silently, and slid down to sit against the door, with his knees pulled to his chest.

But within a minute, he stood again, applied a glamour to erase the signs of his breakdown, shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shakes.

He prowled through every likely space before finally finding Tony in his lab. He was picking at a piece of metal with his fingernail, but he glanced up as soon as he heard Loki's footsteps, and opened his mouth to say something. Loki didn't give him the time.

"How long has it been since the battle of New York?" he asked. Shaking, slightly. All over.

Tony shut his mouth, and came closer, cautiously, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. He stopped a few feet away from Loki, whose eye twitched with impatience.

"About a year. I think," Tony said, softly. "Why? Are you all right?"

The room was spinning.

And Loki was either going to cry again, or scream, or panic, or...

What was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten so much?

Tony stepped forward, took both of Loki's hands, and Loki let him. "What happened?" Tony asked, gently. "Why did you go see Thor? Not that you shouldn't have, because you can do anything you want, but..."

"I think I'm tired," Loki managed to say, without bursting into tears.

"Okay," Tony said, interpreting his meaning correctly, because he pulled Loki over to the couch (which was smaller than the one in the living room, but that was fine) and they both crawled onto it. Tony found a blanket somewhere and pulled it over them, and he hugged Loki close without asking any more questions.

All Loki could do was fall asleep, and hope that when he woke up, he would remember.

()()()

He woke up to warmth.

And softness.

And hair in his face. Tickling his nose.

And fingers, running through his own hair. Gently. As if it was something precious.

It reminded him - almost, almost - reminded him of lovers, from a distant past. In Asgard, people were not so gentle as this, but yes, this reminded him of some of them.

And it was so warm.

Loki opened his eyes, and found himself looking straight into a pair of blinking brown ones.

"Hey, sleepy head," the owner of the brown eyes murmured.

Loki didn't know who he was. Perhaps he had been drunk last night - although, he seldom got drunk, but perhaps he  _ had _ \- and had taken a man home to his bed? He had done that before, but in the morning he had always remembered who he had slept with. He wasn't an idiot, after all. Far from it. He didn't lose his entire memory after a few drinks.

But it didn't really matter.

"I'm tired," he mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Feel like I haven't slept in weeks."

The person laughed softly. "Then go ahead and sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up.

"Mmm."

They laughed again. Pulled him closer.

So gentle, gentle. Where had he found someone so gentle?

Loki opened his eyes and pressed a kiss to their cheek (he would have gone for the lips, but he didn't exactly remember who they were at the moment, and that felt just a little bit odd).

He didn't feel them stiffen, and pull away, because he had already fallen back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*  
> hope you enjoyed that clusterfuck, lol.
> 
> ALSO, I've had a lot of free time in the past few days, so guess what I did with it? I wrote two really, really, really, REALLY angsty one-shots. (All I can say is: poor loki, lol) And I'd be overjoyed if y'all went and read them!! I don't know how to post links here lol so I'll just tell you the titles - one of them's called "true blue" and the other's called "would have". 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!!! And don't be afraid to leave a comment, because I honestly love them, and they make my day and are my motivation to keep writing :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all I can say is - poor toast.

So much had happened that day, that Tony decided to take it all one horrifically traumatic event at a time. It was a method he had used before.

And the most recent horrifically traumatic event had occurred about twenty seconds ago, when a sleepy, definitely-not-thinking-right Loki decided to give him a sopping wet smooch on the cheek. And immediately fall right back into Snoresville, leaving Tony to deal with the fallout like a dazed, swaying civilian rescued from certain death by a random superhero.

Oh, so  _ that _ was what it felt like.

Okay, so, his thoughts were definitely not coming in the right order. Or any order.

But it was understandable. After all, Loki just kissed him.

Just fucking kissed him.

(What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck...)

Okay. Okay. Loki was definitely not in the right headspace. Tired, for one thing. Emotionally exhausted, probably, after seeing Thor again. Add to that the conversation they had had earlier... yeah, it had been a bad day.

And Tony allowed himself to look at Loki - all the tension gone from his face, stolen away by sleep.

He had probably been dreaming. He probably thought Tony was someone else.

And just the thought made him stiffen. He had already stiffened, but he added a little bit of stiffness on top of it.

What if... what if Loki had thought that Tony was Thanos? What if he had been pretending to be comforted by Tony's hands in his hair, as part of some sick act that he felt he had to put on?

No. No. He wouldn't have fallen asleep so quickly if that was the case.

Slowly, Tony allowed himself to relax again.

It was so warm here.

And Loki was so close. And Tony wanted to pull him even closer, and wrap his arms around him again, but he didn't dare to.

In fact, he rolled over, so that he faced the darkness of his lab, the blinking machinery and the several failed metal mugs, all bent in a variety of godawful shapes, which he had tossed onto the floor to be inevitably tripped over later.

Tony closed his eyes.

()()()

"Stop it," Loki whimpered, pressing himself into a corner, putting up his hands to protect himself. His lips were stained bright red.

Tony grunted a refusal, coming closer, pressing against him. He grabbed the back of Loki's head and smashed their lips together in something like a plane crash - fire and sparks and pain, pain, pain in Loki's eyes. But he ignored it.

He was hungry.

()()()

And he jolted awake, breathing hard.

"Shit," he muttered. Where the hell did his mind come up with these sick scenarios?

_ “Tony,”  _ he heard Loki say, a second before something jabbed hard into his shoulder. A really sharp finger, probably.

“Ow,” Tony muttered. “You know, you don’t  _ always _ have to shank everything in order to get your way,” he said, as he rolled over to face Loki, who looked entirely unimpressed.

Okay, so the joke might not have been necessary, or even appropriate considering the many, many fucked up circumstances, but it was a coping mechanism, all right? Jesus. Couldn’t he be allowed to have just one effective coping mechanism?

“How long,” Loki said. “Tell me again.”

Tony’s mind immediately went to a dirty place, but he ruthlessly pulled himself out of the gutter, because Loki had just  _ kissed _ him and he was a rape victim and… god, that dream had been awful…

“More than a year,” he said. “About…” he did the math quickly in his head. “One year and two months.”

Loki let out a breath, and it was warm on Tony’s skin but he did  _ not _ think about it.

“Are you sure?” he asked, in a voice so small and scared that Tony wanted to hug him, but didn’t dare.

All he could do was nod.

Loki swallowed. His eyes were blank. “I suppose I… must have lost track of the time,” he said, in a voice that was somehow calm and clear.

Pretending.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked.

Loki’s mouth opened but no words came out. He had clasped his hands in front of his chest, and Tony could tell that he had done it in an attempt to keep them from shaking, because the attempt had failed and they were shaking anyway,

But despite all that, he nodded. As if Tony couldn’t tell that he was lying,

And Tony smiled and said, “That’s good,” as if he didn’t know.

Loki ducked his head. 

There was an awkward silence.

“I think… well, I’m not sure - I thought I was dreaming, but maybe… did I… do something, last night?”

And Tony couldn’t help but smile at how uncomfortable he looked. Although, he did wonder why Loki had changed the subject so quickly. He wondered if he wanted to talk about this because he needed a distraction.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” he said. “I’m sure you thought you were dreaming.”

“So I did kiss you?” Loki asked, eyes going wide. 

“Yeah,” Tony said.

“And you aren’t freaking out.”

“I mean, it’s… fine.”

“It’s  _ fine _ ,” Loki said, sarcastically. “Oh,  _ wow. _ I feel so much better now.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be mortified,” Tony said. “It was just the cheek.”

Yeah, that would be a million times more awkward if Loki had kissed him on the lips.

Briefly, Tony wondered what that would have felt like.

And then wanted to rip out all his thoughts and put them in a blender. And pour out the smoothie. And let a dog drink it. Okay, he was still tired.

Loki snorted. “Oh, what, and do you usually kiss all of your former archenemies on the damn cheek?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tony said. “Archenemies aren’t a thing. You were just a casual enemy. Who destroyed a city, but, y’know. I forgive you.”

The words were out before he realized he had been about to say them.

And he… didn’t regret it.

Because it was true.

He was  _ cuddling _ with the guy. Of course he forgave him.

But Loki looked away, chewing absently on his lip. He unclasped his hands and crossed his arms over his chest, and the left side of his face was all squished against the pillow. A few pieces of hair fell over his eyes and Tony had a sudden urge to brush them away.

He had brushed hair out of Loki’s eyes before, but it might have been taken more weirdly this time, so he didn’t.

“You don’t have to say that,” Loki said, so quietly that Tony barely heard. “I would never ask such a thing of you. Or ask you to lie, just to… just to spare my  _ feelings _ or whatever sentimental… absurdity... you were caught up in at the moment - just like a mortal.”

“I mean it,” Tony said, just now realizing that he did. “I mean it. I forgive you.”

Loki stared at him.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why would you… I have done nothing,  _ nothing, _ to warrant your forgiveness. You cannot just say such a thing without a justifiable reason, it’s…” he tangled his fingers in his hair. “It’s wrong.”

Tony shook his head, and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “It’s my choice.”

Loki stared at him, and then looked away, his eyes still watering.

And in the silence that ensued, Tony found himself wishing that Loki would forgive him, too. 

After all, Tony was trying his best, and he  _ could handle this, _ but he wasn’t what Loki needed. Anyone would be better - Bruce, or Pepper or Rhodey or hell, a therapist - because Tony had too many issues of his own to deal with Loki’s on top of it all.

But perhaps Loki didn’t think that Tony required forgiveness. Or perhaps he didn’t desire to give it. Either way, Tony wasn’t about to be a hypocrite and start pressuring him.

Loki seemed to be struggling enough as it was with this. So, yeah. No pressure.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

Loki growled. “You already asked me that.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony said. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, they got up. Tony said something like, “How the hell do you roll off a couch so gracefully?” and Loki responded with, “I have had more than a thousand years of practice. With your fifty or so, it is no surprise that you move like a clumsy dolt.”

Then Loki went into the bathroom and put his suit back on. He had been wearing it for a few days in a row, and Tony made a mental note to buy him one that actually fit him right. Multiple of them.

When Loki emerged, looking fresh, and awake - if a bit rough around the edges - Tony felt wholly inadequate in his smelly sweatpants, but just because he felt inadequate didn’t mean he was going to go through all the trouble of rectifying the problem. He stuck two pieces of toast in the toaster, then remembered that Thor was around somewhere, and put in a third.

The toast was ready in about ten seconds. Tony slathered a fat chunk of butter on his piece, and slightly less on Loki’s. He left Thor’s unbuttered because he didn’t know how much butter Thor would want. Was he overthinking this?

Probably.

“Here you go, your Highness,” he said, tossing the toast to Loki, who fumbled to catch it and immediately glared at him.

“My hands are all buttery now,” he said, accusingly.

“Oh nooo,” Tony said. “However will you cope.”

They eyed each other down.

And Loki looked away first.

“I win,” Tony said.

Loki scoffed. “We never established a staring contest, Stark.”

“I’m ‘Stark’ again?”

“Yes. Because I’m mad at you. For getting my hands buttery.”

But then the elevator  _ dinged _ , and Loki stiffened - saying, “Tony,” in that quiet, timid voice that Tony hated - and Tony crossed the room and grabbed his buttery hand tightly.

“No,” Loki said. “Shoulder.”

Tony obliged, letting go of Loki’s hand and putting his hand on his shoulder instead. He didn’t miss the way Loki seemed to sway, like a tree buffeted by a hurricane. Or the way Loki leaned closer to him, into his touch. Or that Loki had called him  _ Tony _ again.

Thor stepped out - of course - and immediately looked at them. “Oh,” he said. “My apologies. I… expected that you would be elsewhere.” He was addressing Loki. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to see me. I was just wondering about breakfast - but I can go back upstairs.”

Loki was holding his metal mug tightly. “No apologizing,” he said, firmly. “And I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your precious  _ breakfast.” _

He said it so bitterly, that it seemed neither Thor or Tony knew what to do. They all just stood there, staring at Loki.

Loki scoffed, and turned his face away from them both, looking at the wall. “Eat if you must.”

“There’s a piece of toast for you,” Tony said, gesturing towards the plate. “I didn’t butter it, because…” he trailed off. 

Thor looked at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to finish the sentence. But when he didn’t, Thor strode over to the plate, squished the toast into a ball, and shoved it into his mouth.

Beside him, Tony could feel Loki shudder.

“Jesus, Thor,” Tony said, staring. “That’s… that’s horrible.”

“I required sustenance,” Thor said, amiably. He smiled at them both, and flung open the fridge, rooting around until he found a box of pizza. “Ah,” he said. “My Lady Jane introduced me to this. Pizza. It is very good, although she was appalled when I ate two boxes of…”

“ _ Enough _ with your ‘Lady Jane’, Thor!” Loki burst out. “We have all had more than enough of your puerile fawning over ‘my lady and her blood-red lips’,” Loki made several meaningless gestures with one hand. 

“You are simply jealous, Loki,” Thor said, in a reasonable tone, settling back against the counter. Tony glanced between them worriedly. “For my Lady Jane has eyes the color of a sapphire sunrise - indeed, the poets will sing songs of her beauty for years to come.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she wore pizza sauce instead of lipstick,” Loki said. “That would explain the smell.”

He then proceeded to take a sip of his tea.

Tony gaped at them both.

“Was that… a  _ bloodless bout of sibling rivalry _ that I just witnessed?” he asked.

Casually, Loki pried Tony’s hand off of his shoulder. “Nugatory banter. Squabble. Quarrel. Nothing. His woman is simply too easy to ridicule.”

Thor looked murderous, but Tony suspected it was a facade, because within another second he was all smiles again, and had stuffed another slice of pizza in his face.

Anyway, Tony wasn’t really looking at him. He was looking at Loki, who was avoiding his eyes, and who had just pushed his hand away like it was a piece of dirt on his sleeve.

He had only done that because Thor was here.

The thought popped into his head before he could stop it. Take it back. Pretend it had never existed, and that it didn’t make sense.

Was Thor homophobic?

God. This day just kept getting better and better.

And Tony was  _ not _ looking forward to dealing with a bigoted God of Thunder on top of all the other shit he had to wade through at the moment. At every moment. Constantly. 

But no, he was going to take this one traumatic event at a time.

And this didn’t exactly qualify. Thor hadn’t done anything yet, there wasn’t any proof. So Tony wasn’t going to create a problem where there wasn’t one. That was the  _ opposite _ of what he wanted to do.

But Thor kept staring at them, at their obvious closeness, and Loki lifted his chin as if daring him to say something. This sibling rivalry had just gotten a lot less friendly, Tony thought, because there was a palpable change in the air. Tension.

"Say it," Loki said. "I know what you are thinking."

"I worry for you," Thor replied. "That is all."

"I'm fine."

"It could be dangerous."

"I'm not so weak as you think."

Thor swallowed, his eyes narrowing, focusing on how Loki and Tony's shoulders were touching.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Loki demanded, setting his tea on the counter, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder, almost possessively. "I won't step away from him, Thor. And I can assure you - nothing has happened between us. But even if it did, I could handle it. I am not a child anymore."

Okay. This was getting out of hand.

"What's going on?" Tony asked.

Both of them stared at him as if they had forgotten he was there.

"What's all this bullshit?" he demanded, stepping forward and poking Thor in the chest. "If you have an issue with us, then why don't you go ahead and voice it?"

"Tony," Loki sighed, sounding exasperated.

Thor's eyes narrowed further, and he stepped heavily to the side, his right hand clenched weirdly as if he was holding an invisible hammer. "You... are not having relations with my brother. Correct?"

"Thor..." Loki trailed off.

"Correct," Tony said. "We aren't together. We  _ certainly _ aren’t ‘having relations.’ But what if we were? And what if it made him happy? Would you still find it so wrong?"

He heard Loki's sharp intake of breath. And he could see a brief flash of pain cross Thor's face, before it was almost expertly hidden away. He hadn't expected that from Thor. He had seen him as the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

"I do not find it wrong," he said, suddenly quiet. "I am only concerned for his well-being. Obviously I cannot make decisions for him, but I do not think it would be wise for him to begin a new relationship so soon after... everything.” Thor looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Of course I… these things are not the common way in Asgard, and in the past I did find it…” Thor winced. “Unnatural. But Loki has had a way of relieving me of my prejudices.”

Oh.

Oops.

Loki laughed, sharply. Tony turned to look at him. "No need to be so subtle," he said, dangerously. One hand holding tightly to the countertop.

"I was only trying to explain myself to Stark. I’m just concerned about you."

"I don't want your damn pity."

"You know as well as I do that pity and concern are not the same thing," Thor said, raising his voice.

Tony took a step away from them. This was gearing up to become a really bloody spat of sibling rivalry, and he didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

Loki scoffed when he saw him backing away, and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. With a hand that was clearly shaking. "No need to leave. My brother is simply being difficult."

“Okay,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “But no violence, ‘kay? If you must pummel each other, go outside.” He raised an eyebrow, eyeing both of them, with his hands still up as if to separate them. “Got that?”

Loki sighed, and leaned back against the counter. “We are not going to fight.” He let go of Tony, and took another drink of tea. Tony suspected that he might have added alcohol to it. “In fact, I… think I will retire to my room, if you’ll excuse me…” suddenly, he was pushing his way past Tony, disappearing quickly around the corner.

Tony and Thor were left to stare at the place where he had gone.

“Well, shit,” Tony said. 

“My brother does have a tendency to storm off,” Thor said. “When he is dissatisfied with the direction of a conversation.”

Tony turned towards him just in time to see him pull a beer bottle out of the fridge, crack it open, and drink the entire thing in about five seconds.

“Asgardians,” Tony muttered, shaking his head.

()()()

“You lied,” Tony said, about five minutes later when he had given up on making small talk with Thor, and gone to see Loki instead. “You lied to Thor.”

Loki shrugged. He was perched elegantly on the edge of his bed, with his elbows resting on his knees. “If you are here to lecture me, you should know that I will not hesitate to banish you from my room.”

“You told him that nothing happened between us,” Tony said, stepping inside and sitting next to Loki on the bed. 

Loki stiffened. “And what else was I supposed to say?” He made wild, meaningless gestures in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry, overprotective brother of mine, but it seems that I accidentally snogged the Man of Iron while I was half-unconscious.”

Loki fell back into a normal sitting position, crossing his arms and hunching down like a bratty child.

“This doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said, slowly uncoiling. He lifted his chin and stared at the wall. “I… would make a request.”

“You can ask anything you want,” Tony said, immediately.

Loki shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts. “Yes. Yes, I know. I…” he swallowed, picking at the cuff of his sleeve. “Would like to see the footage. Any footage. Of my invasion of New York.”

()()()

Tony pulled it up on his computer. “This is just the news,” he said. “Stuff everyone could see. SHIELD has even more. I can hack them for you, if you want.”

Loki was rigid, staring down at the computer Tony had placed on the bed next to him. “No. This will do for now.” He reached out and pressed a finger to the screen. “You can go.”

When Tony lingered, Loki glanced up at him sharply. “I said go.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Tony said, quickly.

He looked back once before he left.

Loki was leaning in towards the screen. It was dark in his room, and the brightness from the computer made his face looked ghostly. He had pressed his fingers lightly to his lips, and his other hand was clenching the bedsheet tightly.

Tony left.

Thor was still in the kitchen, with four empty beer bottles sitting on the counter behind him, and a half-empty one in his hand. Tony poured himself a glass of whisky, lifted it to Thor with a nod as if to toast him, and took a drink.

It occurred to him that Loki had his computer. Could probably hack into his company, and steal everything. But Tony wasn’t worried. Strangely enough.

Well, no, he  _ was _ worried. But only  _ about _ Loki. And not about what Loki might do with the highly sensitive information contained on his laptop.

Tony sipped at his drink, mulling over this information.

Thor tossed his hammer in the air and failed to catch it. It landed with a crash and broke a floorboard into dagger-like splinters.

They both stared at it.

“Sorry,” Thor said.

Tony sighed.

()()()

Loki didn’t return.

Tony spent the hours scrolling mindlessly through his phone, reading report after report on the activities of the “Iron Viper”. He moved to the living room couch, the one he and Loki had slept in together for so many nights. A few minutes later, Thor moved to sit next to him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tony said.

Thor looked at him strangely.

“Spilled,” Tony tried. Gesturing at the spotless couch cushion. “Er. Water. It’s just, you know - it’s kind of… just take the other couch.”

When Thor did, Tony relaxed, and started scrolling again.

When it came to dinner time, he took Loki a few pieces of pizza on a plate. But when he knocked, no one answered.

“Jarvis? Where’s Loki?”

**Mr. Odinson is currently outside, impaling every tree in the vicinity.**

“How the hell did he get out there without us noticing?”

As soon as he said it, Tony knew the answer.

“He climbed out the window, didn’t he.”

**Yes, sir.**

Tony left the pizza on Loki’s bed. The computer was still sitting there, but Tony didn’t look at it. He left it there next to the pizza.

A few minutes later, when Tony had returned to the living room and resumed sitting awkwardly across from Thor, Jarvis announced,  **I believe Mr. Odinson may appreciate your presence, sir.**

Tony looked up sharply, accidentally meeting Thor’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

If Tony didn’t know better, he would say Jarvis hesitated.  **He is… experiencing a panic attack.**

Tony shot to his feet at the same time Thor did. “No, no, no, you stay here,” Tony said, the instant Thor started to storm towards the elevator. “I swear to god, Thor.  _ Thor!” _ Tony cried. He ran forward and grabbed Thor’s arm when he didn’t stop walking. “You are not going up there. Stay here or I’ll shoot you,” Tony said. He let the repulsor in his pocket fold over his hand and pointed it at Thor’s face, the way he had pointed it at Loki’s face that day he rescued him from SHIELD.

Thor’s face was stony. “Stark…”

“No,” Tony said. “You are staying here and I don’t give a  _ damn _ about what you’re going to say - I am not changing my mind.”

Thor rocked back on his heels, away from Tony. And Tony didn’t move, didn’t lower the repulsor, which was aimed directly between Thor’s eyes. His hand was steady. Perfectly steady.

“Very well,” Thor said, and took a step back. Tony wasn’t sure if it was because of the threat of an energy blast to the forehead or if it was because of Tony himself, but he didn’t care and definitely didn’t take time to reason it out. Within a second he was furiously jamming his thumb against the elevator button, giving the door a solid kick when it took its sweet time to open.

When it finally did, he stepped inside without a second glance at Thor, and spent the elevator ride chewing mercilessly on his nails, pacing around in tight circles.

The doors opened - with a cheerful  _ ding _ that made him want to either vomit or punch something - and he sprinted to Loki’s room. Stopped. Hesitated. And slowly opened the door.

Loki was sitting in the corner of the room, holding tightly to his pillow, with his face buried in it. He looked up when Tony walked in, and made a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. 

And Tony… Tony didn’t even think. Didn’t need to think. Before he was crossing the room, dropping to his knees, and… and he wanted with all his heart to hug Loki, to hold him close, but he wasn’t sure…

Loki went rigid, staring at him as if he had never seen him before. And a pang went through Tony’s chest at the sound of his panicked breathing. The way his shoulders shook. The tears in his eyes.

Eyes that were full of rage and anger and  _ fury, _ reminding Tony of how Loki had looked when he was huddled in the corner of the SHIELD cell, bent over his magic like he was protecting a child.

“Loki…”

Loki lunged at him, pinned him to the ground with his hands on his shoulders. Tony put his hands up - “Hey, hey,  _ hey  _ stop it” - but didn’t try to fight back, watching as Loki closed his eyes tightly, shoulders shaking, and slowly sank back into a crouch, covering his face with his hands, his breathing ragged. 

Tony sat up. And, more cautiously than he would have thought himself capable of, put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Lokes, are you…?”

Loki lashed out like a viper, grabbing Tony’s wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. Tony let out a wheezing breath of pain, but Loki let go just as quickly as he had grabbed him, when his breathing spiked into a panic again. Quickly, Tony backed away from him. “Hey - you’re okay. It’s just me. Just Tony.”

Loki laughed bitterly, in between heaving breaths. “I  _ know _ that it is you.” 

Tony was confused for a second, before he realized what must have happened. “No, Lokes, I’m not your enemy. I’m not gonna hurt you. You forget things sometimes, but in just a minute it’ll come back to you.”

Loki let out a sob, then clenched his fists, his eyes flashing, bracing his hands against the wall and tensing as if waiting to be hit. “I remember everything,” he said. “ _ I remember everything! _ Fuck you, Stark.  _ Fuck you! _ If I could  _ breathe right _ I would kill you!”

Then something must have exploded in Tony’s chest.

He screamed, frozen to the spot, unable to think, his mind turned to pieces by the  _ pain, pain, pain _ . After a few seconds it faded, and he was just able to catch his breath enough to look and see that Loki was leaning heavily against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, before it happened again, and he screamed again, clawing at his chest.

It happened again. And the pain was so intense that he couldn’t hold himself up, and he dimly felt the impact as his head knocked against the floor.

Again. He screamed.

Again. He screamed.

Again. Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, romance is on the quickly-approaching horizon!! I promise.  
> Hope you liked the chapter! Please leave a comment, they make me so happy, and are my motivation to write!! :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, so... honesty time: I’m not working very hard to edit this and make sure everything’s right, because I’m already getting super distracted by writing another angsty Loki/Tony story (which might begin being posted soon, haha shameless self-plug) anyway, my beta’s asking me plot questions and so I’m rereading this and I’m just confused because it’s been so long since I’ve been writing for this story that I decided to just leave it and that’s why my attempt at plot probably makes no sense. So if you see plot holes or parts that don’t make sense feel free to yell at me lol because I deserve it.  
> Also thanks for all your comments! <3  
> Anyway enjoy the angst XD

Loki couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, everything spiraling, spinning and swirling, rising higher and higher, out of control. He wanted to run, hide, brace himself for the blow he knew was coming from  _ somewhere _ , but he couldn’t, couldn’t do anything.

That wasn’t true. He could cry. Sob, with his arms shielding his head as if to protect himself, knees pulled up to his chest, sob as his magic lashed out and lashed out and _ lashed out  _ and left him exhausted and suffocating because he couldn’t breathe.

He curled up on the floor, buried his face in his arms. 

Someone grabbed his wrists. Loki jerked and froze. Tensed, ducked his head, shrank back against the wall.

“Loki  _ stop,” _ someone said. “You’re hurting him.”

Loki couldn’t breathe.

But he could see.

And it was Thor.

_ Thor. _

(Not Thor. It wasn’t Thor.)

Loki started to sob again. Everything was dark. Spinning. Painful. His chest hurt. Burned. They were burning him again.

He went limp in Thanos’ grip. It tasted like salt. Like vomit. Everything hurt. Hurt so much. And Thanos was standing over him, laughing.

Blessed darkness.

()()()

A deep ache. Thrumming through his bones.

A softness, under him, over him, warmth.

His shoulder hurt. He was lying on it awkwardly.

He could feel the remnants of an exhausting, almost painful anxiety, settled on the bottom of his mind like seaweed on the ocean floor.

Once he was conscious enough to move, he curled into himself automatically, bringing his knees up to his chest, covering his head with his arms.

And he opened his eyes.

He was in a bed. There was a door on the right wall. It was dark here. 

He was alone.

His eyes burned. Had been burning? ...Why?

He couldn’t remember… why was he here? This room wasn’t in Asgard. Anywhere that he remembered, at least. But he wasn’t sure… his mind felt foggy. His thoughts sluggish and stupid. And everything ached. He was exhausted. Why couldn’t he remember?

()()()

There was a computer on his bed, with an opened document on the screen. A letter?

He dimly remembered the SHIELD cell, and Stark. Maybe.

And he definitely remembered what Thanos had done.

The anxiety returned the more he remembered. Made his hands shaky.

But he grabbed the computer and pulled it into his lap, hunched down to read.

_ Hey, Lokes. _

_ This is Tony. Thor and I had to give you an injection to help you sleep longer, because we thought it might be safer that way. You can come out of your room whenever you want, and if you want to stay in there, we won’t try to come and visit you. I’ll leave some food outside the door for you every couple hours. _

_ I know that you might not remember where you are, or why you’re here, or why the hell Tony Stark would be writing this to you. I’m going to put a quick summary of the past couple weeks, but I thought I’d mention something more important first. _

_ These are the rules we made on the SHIELD quinjet, along with one we made here, in my safe house in Mexico. _

_ One: We don’t hurt each other. (But I think I can forgive you for hurting me.) _

_ Two: If either of us ever feel uncomfortable with anything, we’ll say the word ‘red’, and the other will make sure that we don’t feel uncomfortable anymore. _

_ Three: If something needs to be talked about, then we will talk to each other about it. _

_ Four: If you’re going to leave, tell me first. _

_ Five: We will always help each other. _

Loki paused and wiped his eyes irritably on his sleeve. But he kept crying because his memory was coming back, and the more it did, the more his eyes burned.

Stark - Tony? - had indeed summarized the events of the past weeks. Leaving out all of Loki’s panic attacks, memory loss, failure to eat. But Loki quickly remembered those things. Oh, yes, it was easy to remember  _ those _ things. But he didn’t remember things like ice cream and shopping and holding hands on the Mont Royal - which Stark seemed to emphasize over all else.

Of course, he would ignore all the negatives, all of Loki’s shortcomings and all of his  _ weaknesses _ , pretending that he wasn’t the reason for their existence.

Loki remembered watching the video. Watching himself. Seeing what a failure of a plan this had been from the start. And it took him a few hours to realize the truth. To  _ see it. _ But once he had, he wondered how no one else had seen, when it was so clear.

Of course, by then he was panicking. 

Because  _ why not? _ The instant he had discovered something important -  _ why not _ start to panic? 

Loki wiped his eyes.

_ I’m not sure what I did to make you angry. But whatever it is, feel free to fall back on rule three. In fact, please do. Come downstairs whenever you’re ready, and we can talk. _

  * __Tony.__



Loki sniffed. Sighed. Slammed the computer shut. But he wasn’t angry. He was just exhausted.

He laid back down on the bed, hugged his pillow tightly, buried his face in it, and didn’t move for a long time.

()()()

There was a tray outside, with a piece of pizza, an apple, and a mushy taco on it, along with a metal mug filled with tea, and another with coffee. There was a sticky note taped to one of them.  _ Sorry, all we have is fast food. Hopefully the apple will balance it out? - TS _

Loki eyed the tray thoughtfully. Then he took it inside, shutting the door with his foot.

The familiar anxiety rose up when he looked at the food. And yes, he could hear the Chitauri’s jeers echoing in his head -  _ “Eat it, eat it,  _ eat it” - but it wasn’t so bad to just take a sip of tea, and a few minutes later he was able to manage a slice of apple. 

He remembered how, in those first few days, how every time he ate he would brace himself for the pain, the agony that always used to follow when he ate. But it never had. Stark - Tony - had never poisoned his food. 

Loki really was very lucky.

(He cringed at that confession. But couldn’t take it back.)

Because Tony had never hurt him, although Loki would have deserved it. Tony hadn’t even left him there to die. And Loki didn’t understand why, but Tony said that it was because he cared about him and…

It was foolish to trust, of course…

But Loki wasn’t stupid. Tony probably  _ didn’t _ know what he had done wrong.

Oh, but Loki was stupid. And it was foolish to trust.

He rested his head in his hands. Anxiety was a raging current, beneath the surface, always moving, always dragging pieces of him away, hurling them under. And he felt like he was on the verge of drowning.

He couldn’t talk to Tony. Couldn’t bring himself to. But he knew that he had reacted wrong, had reacted badly. Sure, part of it was panic. And yes, he had felt betrayed. But without Tony, what did he have?

And that confession sickened him.

Loki groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

Until an idea came to him.

He jumped up and hunted around for a pen. Rooted through drawers, shoved aside piles of clothes, even checked under the bed, for some reason. But there was a pen next to the bathroom sink - of all the places? - and he grinned when he saw it, snatched it up and knelt down on the bed next to the tray again, plucking off the sticky note, smoothing it out.

He wrote beneath Tony’s message.  _ It did indeed. Thank you. However, next time I would prefer a bowl of Lucky Charms. Thank you as well for your letter. And are you all right? - LO _

Leaned back and surveyed it. Tony wrote in an untidy, hunched scrawl, whereas his was a messy, loopy, nearly unreadable cursive. He read both messages a few times, just be sure that there was nothing he should add.

Then he pasted the sticky note back onto the mug, and left the tray outside the door.

()()()

There was a new sticky note, on the side of the cereal bowl. Loki read it while he picked at his food.

_ Yeah, I’m okay. Thor says he might have to leave soon. Doesn’t want to make anyone suspicious, I think. He also mentioned that someone called the ‘Allfather’ is looking for him. Oh, and what do you want for dinner?  _

After all he had done, Tony would ask him what he wanted for _ dinner. _

“I burned your city, Tony,” he murmured, curling up on his side. “I killed its residents. I forced them to kneel.” 

_ You were made to be ruled. _

Loki stiffened. He always seemed to stiffen now. And he didn’t move for a long moment, focusing on breathing. On quieting his thoughts, because he didn’t want to think about it. About the wrongness of it all.

When he saw the videos, it had been like he was watching it all for the first time (aside from the few things that sometimes used to slip through in flashes - such as Tony’s fall from the window, and the Hulk’s snarling, animal eyes - all the worst parts, it seemed). And yet he knew it had happened. He knew he had done those things, with a certainness that felt heavier than Mjolnir. 

He also knew that he had been wearing a glamour.

_ Even then. _

_ Was I ever whole? _

“I  _ hurt _ you,” he said, laughing because of how insane this all was. And it flashed through his mind - Tony’s screams, his eyes slipping shut, his body convulsing on the floor even after he had blacked out because Loki was panicking too much to make it stop.

Tony’s body, flying through the air like a broken puppet, cloth arms flailing, his strings broken - snapped by the shattered glass.

“You mortals… you make no sense.”

What a  _ pity  _ that he had killed them all.

_ You were made to be ruled _ .

Loki tensed as a memory flashed through his head: Thanos behind him, Thanos  _ inside  _ him, large and painful and moving and Loki… was just an object, was just an object, was just an object.

Thanos threw his head back and laughed, sticky waves of pleasure rolling through his voice even as Loki slowly broke apart.

_ “You were  _ made _ to be ruled!”  _ Thanos cried, and came, in an explosion of agony and white noise and Loki’s insides were rearranged and torn apart and he was empty and full and used and Thanos was right.

When the memory faded, Loki relaxed slightly, but didn’t eat any more. And when he sent the note back, all he wrote was  _ Send Thor. Anything. _

Afterwards he sat on his bed for a long time, staring at the opposite wall.

()()()

Thor actually knocked, for once.

Loki didn’t move. He was still on the bed, scrolling through picture after picture of destruction, each feeling like the sting of a Chitauir’s claw embedded in his chest. “Come in.”

Thor flung the door open, like the oaf he was, and it hit the wall with a  _ bang. _ Loki was pathetically proud of the fact that he didn’t flinch.

He didn’t bother to look up. “You are going.” Stating a fact.

“It would be safer if I did not extend my stay for too long,” Thor said, closing the door more quietly and taking a few steps inside. “Tony and I both agreed.”

“When?”

“Today. Tomorrow. Sometime soon. Brother…”

“You may ask whatever you wish,” Loki said, closing the computer, folding his hands in his lap. “But do not expect an answer.” 

Thor glanced around for a chair, gave up, and sat on the floor. Loki pursed his lips but didn’t argue. He did feel safer when Thor was sitting instead of towering over him like… like  _ that. _

“Why did you attack Tony?” Thor asked.

Loki sighed, twisting the string of his sweatshirt around his finger. “I can offer no excuse. Not without bending the truth in my favor. And I… think I would rather explain it to him, first.”

“He did nothing to you.”

“I know,” Loki said.

What else could he say?

“And you had him writhing in pain on the floor,” Thor snapped, standing up, stepping forward even though he must have seen the way Loki’s eyes widened, and he drew away, fingers clenching around handfuls of bedsheet. “What is this? What is your  _ game _ , Loki? I was inclined to believe Tony when he said that you had been tortured but if that is true then  _ why _ would you turn around and torture  _ him?” _

“I never meant to hurt him. I would  _ never _ try to hurt him. I would never  _ torture  _ another living creature!”

“Then why did…”

“And this is no game!” Loki stood up, fists clenched. “If you had ever tried to  _ look _ then perhaps you would have figured that out for yourself!” he put both hands on Thor’s chest and shoved, only succeeding in pushing Thor back a step. “But no. I’m a liar, a deceiver, of  _ course _ I would try to attack Midgard for no good reason!”

“Loki--”

_ “What? _ Are you going to tell me that I’m being unreasonable, that I’m being  _ stupid _ , that I’m wrong, I’m lying - of course I’m lying - because  _ I’m _ the Silvertongue and  _ you’re  _ the golden hero and I should  _ know my place?” _ Loki shoved at Thor again, and Thor’s back hit the wall. Green sparks flew from Loki’s hands and died in the carpet. 

Loki covered his mouth with one hand, because he didn’t deserve to get angry, when he had killed Tony’s friend, had killed innocent people -  _ you were made to be ruled. _

And it didn’t _matter_ if he couldn’t remember _doing_ most of it, it didn’t matter if he never wanted to _-_ he had done it. He should have fought harder, fought it until he couldn’t fight anymore - he had wanted to die when he fell from the Bifrost so why not allow himself to die screaming by Thanos’ hand? It was the same result anyway, and he wouldn’t have so much goddamn blood on his hands.

Oh… the things he had done.

“Loki.”

Loki didn’t say a word, just pushed past Thor, stumbling on his way to the elevator, only able to press the button because he had memorized its position. Thor didn’t follow him.

And suddenly the only thought in his head was that he  _ had _ to be sure that Tony was okay because he couldn’t  _ stand _ the thought of having hurt anyone else.

He found him lying on the couch, with a glass of whisky in his hand, eyes on the ceiling. “How’d it go?” Tony asked, without turning his head.

When his words were met with silence, he glanced in Loki’s direction.

“Oh, shit,” Tony said. “Hey. Um…”

“Are you all right?” Loki managed to ask, stepping forward. Stopping. Taking another hesitant step. Tony looked tired. Bags under his eyes. That was probably Loki’s fault. Tony must have had a nightmare last night while Loki was upstairs. And instead of dreaming of him doing something to Loki, he had probably dreamed of _ Loki  _ doing something terrible to  _ him. _

“I…” Tony set his glass down. “Yeah.” He sat up. “Yeah. I’m all right. Are you? You’re not angry at me for anything?”

“Angry at  _ you?” _ Loki nearly whispered. He never deserved to be angry in the first place. He should  _ never h _ ave been angry at all and yet, the rage was still there, lying like a predator in wait, at the back of his mind. Yes, he was angry.

But more than his anger was the urge to rip himself apart, to… to take the knife and… and turn it on himself, and  _ slash _ the skin from his bones, slash through the pale skin and the blue skin and cut and cut and cut until there was nothing left. Because he deserved to be punished. Deserved to die, no matter how desperately, how  _ desperately _ he wanted to keep on living.

He was at a loss. All he could do was stand there in silence, wringing his hands, watching as Tony slowly stood up and came towards him.

“Wanna tell me what’s up? Because I’m kind of confused. I’d really like an explanation,” Tony said.

“Ask me,” Loki said, quietly. Because it would be easier to answer someone else’s question than to try to explain everything himself. 

Tony stopped. “What?”

And Loki ducked his head, feeling stupid. “I just… meant it would be easier if you asked me,” he said, feeling his face burning.

“Okay,” Tony said, softly. “Why did… why did you attack me?”

“I was angry,” Loki said, quickly. Pretending that he was back in the throne room, pretending that he had to answer in order to avoid the pain that would come if he didn’t. It was easier that way.

“Why?” Tony asked.

“Because I…” Loki cast around wildly for an explanation. Surely, there had to be an explanation somewhere. “I thought I had tried to make it obvious, but… but no one figured it out, and…” he turned his face into the wall, trying to hide the watering of his eyes. “If you had just realized the truth then maybe none of this would have happened and I wouldn’t  _ be _ like this.”

He flinched when Tony took a step forward, and he put his hands up, stopping in his tracks. “What truth?”

Loki shook his head, speaking through his hands. His voice came out all muffled and timid and broken and sad. “I never  _ wanted _ to attack New York.”

Tony froze. “You… you what? You didn’t?”

Loki shook his head again, putting one arm over his head, tensing and shrinking back. He knew Tony wouldn’t hurt him, but it felt safer this way. “I didn’t. I think Thanos must have used the Mind Stone to control me, but the only reason I figured it out was because the plan was so fucking  _ awful _ -” his voice rose slightly as his anger seeped through, “By the Norns, Tony I attacked  _ New York!  _ I  _ knew _ you would all be there! And I must have hoped, I must have been so desperate, hoping that you would figure it out and help me or save me or  _ kill me _ but you sent me back--”

Gently, Tony grabbed hold of his wrist, lowering his arm and putting another hand on his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“He wiped my memories,” Loki said. “Thanos  _ wiped my memories  _ of the entire invasion, and I thought that… this entire time, I thought that I chose to attack New York but when I watched the footage I realized… even  _ then, _ I was never in control--”

“But, hey, but you knew that you threw me out the window, we joked about it,” Tony said, sounding utterly confused.

“Thor told me!” Loki cried. “He was angry and he ranted about everything that I did, and they went through all of my crimes at my trial, so I  _ knew _ almost everything but I had never  _ seen _ it, and it was horrible--” 

And the flashes, the flashes, always bright and sharp and vivid in his mind. Not anymore, they were gone now. Had faded and dimmed to black as the days stretched on in that cell, as he was torn apart piece by piece, his mind too broken to retain those memories. 

But he remembered the  _ flash _ of a man without his suit, of a drink in his hand, and of so many pieces of shattered glass, strewn across the floor like the broken fractured pieces of Loki’s own mind.

_ Flash. _

Tony grabbed his hand. 

Loki stared at him desperately. “Why would you… why would you do this?” he asked, jerking suddenly out of Tony’s grip. “I killed Coulson.” 

_ Flash,  _ legs outstretched, sprawled across the floor, a deadened, sarcastic smile on unmoving lips,  _ “You lack conviction.” _

“I used your friends against you,” 

Barton’s blue eyes.  _ “Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Anything you want, sir.” _

“Murdered innocent people.”

_ “Sentenced to life in prison for the deaths of one hundred and eighty-nine Midgardians…” _ and  _ bang _ went Gungnir against the staircase,  _ bang, bang, bang _ in time with Loki’s frantic heartbeat,  _ where am I? Where am I? What did I do? _

“Threw you out a fucking  _ window _ and I hurt you so badly today - and you have no way of believing me, there’s no  _ proof, _ because if you didn’t figure it out the first time I’m sure you won’t now but you haven’t even looked yet - at the footage, I can show you… I was injured, I could barely walk on the way to the truck, Barton had to help me...”

Tony’s eye twitched as he looked away, biting his lip. “I believe you. No need to show me.”

“Why?” Loki asked. “What reason could you possibly have to believe me?”

“I saw what the fucker did to you,” Tony said, his voice hard, his eyes dangerous. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. And, besides, you…” his voice softened, and he let his folded arms drop to his sides. “You seem so different from how you did then. If you say it wasn’t your choice then I believe you. I  _ trust _ you.”

Loki shook his head. “I should have fought it. I should have tried harder. Should have died rather than let him turn me into his pawn…”

“No,” Tony said, carefully coming closer, stopping only inches away. “You can’t say that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Loki poked him in the chest, pushing him away. “ _ You _ fought them. You fought them and you got away. You never did what they asked.”

“And how did you get your magic back?” Tony challenged. “You told me that you tricked him. Didn’t you? You tricked him and you got away.”

“You don’t know how I did it,” Loki whispered. “You don’t understand how pathetic I was. What he turned me into. I did everything he asked, Tony. It wasn’t rebellion - it was  _ submission…” _

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tony said.

Loki ploughed on mercilessly. “I whined and I begged for my magic, because he loved to dangle things in front of my face only to tear them away again and... and when he let me see it or even touch it I would jump up and pretend that I had enough left in me to fight and he  _ loved _ that because he felt like he got to break me all over again, every time.”

Loki took a step forward, and Tony stepped back.

“But this is a magical wound,” he said, placing his hand over his chest. “And magic draws on magic like… like… like the intertwining branches of a tree, so I drew on my magic’s power, and hid it deep within my body.

“And on the day that I thought I might have enough, I waited until he forced me to my knees as he  _ always _ did,” Loki’s voice broke. He took another step but Tony didn’t, instead grabbing his hands and squarely meeting his eyes. “Letting him take me, letting him  _ pound into me _ like the whore that I am -” 

He didn’t know if he was crying, but he must have been because when Tony put one hand behind his head and pulled him forward into his chest, he also wiped the back of his hand over his eyes.

“I attacked him during his climax, I ripped my magic from his hands and teleported away. And I hid somewhere, in a cave or a crevasse of rock, waiting to grow strong enough to teleport again. Then I came to earth.”

Silence descended. Loki grabbed tightly onto Tony’s sleeve, and Tony’s grip on his hand was hard enough to hurt.

“I  _ am _ pathetic,” Loki said. “Whatever you think you saw during the battle of New York was stronger than me, because without the Mind Stone’s power I am just a broken puppet. He… he destroyed me. I may have escaped but he still  _ won.” _

Tony shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Loki, you trust me, right?”

Loki froze, unsure how to answer. Did he?

But the answer came to him in the form of a memory - him and Tony sleeping side by side on the couch, and why would Loki have allowed that if he didn’t trust him? Tony had had chance after chance to kill him, to hurt him, and Loki fully deserved it but he  _ hadn’t _ been anything but foolishly kind.

“Yes,” he said, into the crook of Tony’s neck.

“Then believe me when I say that what you did takes a kind of strength that not many people possess. It is so damn hard to stand up to someone who has hurt you. And there is no shame in  _ being _ hurt. You can’t blame yourself for what Thanos did to you.”

Loki let out a long breath.

No, he couldn’t believe it. No matter how beautiful Tony’s words were, Loki couldn’t believe them.

But the most unbelievable thing was that  _ Tony _ did. He believed every word he was saying.

Loki pulled him closer, clung to him, and held tighter to Tony than he had ever held to anything else in his life.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“I forgive you,” Tony said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, running his fingers through Loki’s hair.

()()()

Thor left later that day, with nothing but an anticlimactic farewell and a reminder that, should Loki need him (which he wouldn’t), he knew how to find him.

Loki suspected that Tony had explained everything to him, because Thor didn’t ask him any questions, but every time he looked at him, his gaze was full of such an immeasurable, obvious sadness that Loki had to glance away.

And now that he and Tony were alone, Loki felt awkward. He had broken down. And no matter how expertly he pretended to be fine, how high he held his head, Tony would surely be remembering his weakness.

But Loki remembered Tony telling him that he was strong. He had told him that many times, and Loki remembered every one.

And it made him feel better.

However marginally.

Tony poured them both drinks and they sat in silence across the table from each other.

Hesitantly, Loki held out his hand, and Tony took it without a pause.

And sure, it was embarrassing that that simple touch made him feel so much better. But it  _ did.  _ It made him feel better and he had been feeling so miserable that he would take anything he could get.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t touched Tony before. It was like second nature, now, or at least it had been for a while, until the events of that day. And despite what the Chitauri had done, and despite the way that a simple movement from Thor could make him flinch, he was never afraid when Tony reached out to touch his shoulder or grab his hand. It was nice.

_ Sentiment. _

Loki smiled.

Tony was watching him with a strange look on his face.

He cleared his throat.

Loki looked up, halfway between startled and amused. “Yes?”

“Obviously, this was… a lot,” Tony said, carefully. “Up for a movie? Some mindless entertainment?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Loki said.

They sat together on the couch. Tony put on something with a lot of explosions and car chases, and Loki zoned out at least three times, only refocusing when Tony shook him, saying something like, “Pay attention. This part’s really good.”

And when the movie was over, they laid down together on the couch.

And Loki scooted in closer to Tony - closer than he ever had before - burying his face in the crook of his neck, flinging an arm over his waist and one leg carelessly over both of his, to get as much warmth and as much closeness and as much  _ touch _ as possible because dammit, it made him feel better.

Tony made a small, startled noise in his throat when Loki did this, but only a moment later he relaxed. “You’re cuddly tonight.”

Loki hummed. “You are warm.”

“Oh sure. So, I’m only here because you don’t have an electric blanket? Because I could buy you one, and--”

“Do shut up,” Loki murmured. 

Tony laughed softly.

And yes, this did remind Loki of many nights spent with lovers - falling asleep afterwards, sometimes with space in between, sometimes not - but this was… different. And this was  _ better _ , and closer, even though they hadn’t actually kissed, hadn’t done anything, and yet....

On Asgard, his choices had been few, far between. He suspected that the men who had been intimate with him only did it because he was a prince. After all, without his royal title, he was… he had been nothing but a magic-user, an  _ argr _ , the younger son. There had never truly been anything beyond the physical. Certainly never any trust. And if there was any  _ caring _ involved, it had been once-sided.

Tony was smarter than all of them, certainly. He had such a brilliant mind. Loki trusted him. And Tony said that he cared about him. 

He suspected that if they had actually kissed, that night, it would have been  _ better _ than any kiss he had ever shared before.

Because Loki had never met anyone whose  _ mind _ he had felt so…

Attracted to?

Was he?

_ Was he? _

Yes, yes he was, and Tony certainly wasn’t bad to look at, either.

It didn’t matter. As if Tony would ever participate in that. With him.

Loki opened his eyes.

Tony was sleeping there beside him. His slow, even breaths were warm on Loki’s skin. His eyelashes fluttered as his eye twitched. One of his arms was flung over Loki’s side. So close. Why would he get this close if he didn’t want to?

Loki inhaled sharply when Tony’s eyes opened.

They stared at each other.

“Still awake?” Tony asked. “I felt you stiffen up. You okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered into the dark. “Yes. I am okay.”

Tony smiled, snuggling closer into Loki’s chest.

Loki’s breath hitched.

And evened out.

He ran a hand through Tony’s hair, and was amazed when he didn’t pull away. He placed his hand on the side of Tony’s face, and watched as a small smile tugged at his lips. His eyes opened briefly, and Loki froze - perhaps Tony had thought that Loki was someone else? - but then he said, “G’night, Lokes,” and Loki forgot to breathe.

Tony’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Loki said, pulling his hand away. “Nothing is wrong. Good night.”

Tony smiled, and closed his eyes.

And Loki stayed awake all throughout the night, wondering at their closeness. When Tony had nightmares, Loki stole them away, shuddering as he watched himself panicking against the wall from Tony’s point of view, as he felt an explosion of pain in his chest, over and over again.

And when it was over, he was even more at a loss. He had done  _ that _ to Tony. And yet, Tony was still here. 

Loki stayed awake all throughout the night, waiting for Tony’s eyes to open again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*
> 
> Leave a comment if you'd like, I'd love to know what you think!! <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ehehehe ;)  
> *drops fluff-bomb and runs*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi I really wanted to post this earlier but i was a dumbass and broke my laptop screen lmao.   
> anyway, uh, enjoy the fluff/angst/oneofmyfavoritechapters hehe have funn!

Tony had forgiven Loki. For everything.

Because if the burn on his chest was anything to go by, he had been punished enough.

But yeah, the fact that he hadn’t been in control when he attacked New York did make him feel a little better. Not that he would have taken anything back, otherwise. But still.

And yeah, there was a shit ton of awful stuff to wade through and he would, but the first thought to enter his head when he woke up, opened his eyes and saw that Loki was already looking at him with a faint smile on his face was that maybe, eventually, he could actually tell the others about this. Maybe they could come to an understanding. Because it was one thing to ask them to forgive a war criminal who had willingly attacked earth but it was quite another to ask them to forgive a torture victim who had had his free well ripped away from him and stuffed into a scepter.

The thought of what they had done to Loki was horrible enough that he could completely understand why Loki had been so angry. Especially because he apparently didn't remember most of his own invasion. What must that have been like, watching it for the first time?

Tony thought back to the attack on New York. Nearly two years ago. And at first glance he didn't remember anything being off but if he really thought about it - yeah, Loki hadn't looked too good. Well, he looked fine, but that must have a glamour. But the way he carried himself... he had probably been exhausted. And yeah, like Coulson had said, he lacked conviction. All that bravado was so obviously just a cover up. All those ridiculous dramatic entrances, completely lacking in strategy when it would have been so much more effective to launch a sneak attack or something instead of waltzing into Stuttgart like he owned the damned place - it was all a cry for help.

Because what other options did he have?

Loki blinked, and reached out, resting his knuckles on the side of Tony's face.

They were so close.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered.

Loki laughed. "No, I am the one who should be sorry."

Tony wanted to remind him that he had already apologized, that he didn’t have to be sorry anymore, but he knew that it didn’t work that way. Neither of them were the type of people to trust forgiveness.

Tony swallowed. And brushed aside a piece of Loki's hair.

If anyone in the entire world had walked in just then, there would have been no doubt in their mind that Tony and Loki must have fucked on that damn couch last night. Why else would they be looking into each others eyes like they were smack-dab in the middle of a cringy teen romance movie?

"Well, I forgive you," Tony said. "You were angry. Betrayed. I get it. I've been there."

"I forgive you as well. You couldn't have known. I shouldn't have expected it of you."

Tony looked down. "It's still shitty."

Loki laughed again, but this one sounded more forced. "It is."

Tony leaned forward, and rested his forehead against Loki's.

"Y'know, this is nice," he said, after a while. "But I really have to pee."

Loki laughed, for a third time, and Tony laughed along with him.

()()()

"Bacon 'n eggs," Tony announced, slapping the plate down in front of Loki, who eyed it suspiciously. "An American standard."

He was more than relieved when Loki picked up his fork without further hesitation, and took a big bite of bacon (although he was sorely tempted to make fun of him for using a fork instead of his fingers). Thankfully, the events of yesterday didn't seem to have ruined his appetite. In fact, he seemed to be eating somewhat normally now.

"Burnt," Loki said, making a face.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Tony said, making a show of wolfing down his own piece of bacon, barely managing not to gag. "It's... delicious," he managed to say, before giving in and taking a long swig of orange juice to get rid of the taste.

Loki smirked. "You are an awful cook."

"Well I don't see you trying."

"I am a prince," he said, with a shrug. "I would never condescend to such a lowly position."

"What position?" Tony asked, indignantly.

Loki looked casually to the side. "Peasant," he said, smirking again, and leaning forward to grab his cup and take a sip of orange juice.

Unfortunately when he leaned forward, the collar of his shirt slipped just enough for Tony to see the edge of the huge bandage on his chest, and he winced before he could stop himself.

How, how could anyone do that to Loki, to a guy who liked fortune cookies and movies and goddamn  _ cuddling _ , how dare they hurt him so badly that he flinched when people touched him and hugged a pillow to feel safe and... and thought that he was broken?

Tony reached out without thinking, reached out and grabbed Loki's hand. He was tempted to pull him closer, hug him, maybe even... something else.

What else? What was he thinking?

Loki looked up abruptly. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Tony said.

Perhaps Loki knew that he was lying, perhaps he didn't. Either way, he didn't press the issue. Instead, he smiled at Tony, and took another bite of bacon.

But when they were done eating, Loki stepped off his stool, came closer to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, murmured something, and Tony felt it again, but this time he was able to put a name to it - the urge to stand on his tiptoes and cup Loki’s jaw with his hand and pull him close and kiss him.

The pang of guilt that accompanied this was enough to make him step away quickly, face burning with shame, mutter something and run off down to his lab.

Loki needed to heal.

He didn't need some idiot to start making moves on him, bringing up all kinds of traumatic memories... for fuck's sake, he was a rape victim. What the hell was wrong with Tony?

He fiddled with a finicky piece of metal for a minute or two before giving up, grabbing a hammer, and pounding away at another random piece of metal for no reason other than he needed to get all of this pent-up anger out somehow.

And it took him back to Afghanistan, as everything did, hammer falling with a clang over and over, in the light of the sparks and the dying fire -  _ "I'll build it I'll build it I'll build it for you..." _

Tony blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts, without interrupting the  _ clang clang clang  _ of metal on metal.

Suddenly, without knowing why, he hurled it to the ground.

God. He was the absolute fucking worst, wasn't he?

He couldn't handle this.

And Loki would be better off with anyone else in the entire fucking universe.

He glared at the hammer. Turned, and glared at the pile of failed metal mugs that he had tossed to the floor. Dented and misshapen. Ugly.

He kicked one, and it hit the wall with a satisfying clatter and a _ thunk. _

He kicked another,

Another and another and he yelled as he kicked the last one, yelled loudly and wildly and for no reason other than dammit, he was pissed off.

When he was finally done screaming at the wall, he stopped and stood there staring at it, and drew a hand down the side of his face, rubbing at his eyes.

He wanted to put his suit on and go flying.

The desire hit him in a wave. He wanted to spin and dive and soar through the sky and fly up into the clouds and scare some poor civilian by swooping down over their head - he wanted it so badly but it felt like he was stuck here.

No one but Loki, and now Tony couldn't even trust himself around him. What if he got drunk and did something stupid? He would never forgive himself. And just the thought made him shudder.

He should...

He should probably stay away, shouldn't he?

Just in case.

Tony bit down on the screw he was holding in his mouth.

What if Loki needed him? What if he had a nightmare or... or woke up disoriented, or in the middle of a panic attack, and Tony wasn't there?

What if Tony was there, woke up and thought Loki was Pepper, and proceeded to… to rape him? Yes, it would be rape, because Loki would be too scared to protest, to fight back. And it wasn’t as if he would  _ want _ it.

Tony groaned, dropped his head into his hands. But in only a few seconds he had grabbed another hammer and was abusing that piece of metal again.

When he next looked up at the clock, he realized it was midnight.

Loki could have told Jarvis to get him if he needed him. He could have come down to the lab himself. Which meant that he was fine. 

But… no, Tony knew that was wrong. He was trying to convince himself otherwise, but he knew that if Loki needed him, he would rather suffer in silence than admit it. Wouldn’t Tony have done the same?

But he still couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs.

In the end, he fell asleep under the table, using his hands as a pillow. Alone.

()()()

Loki was already screaming. Screaming, with his hands up, shrinking away into the corner as Tony grinned and came closer, approaching him like a wild animal, only smelling sex and hearing cries full of lust and seeing the most beautiful, vulnerable view - Loki with his eyes wide and his red lips parted and  _ ohhhh. _

Tony grabbed his shoulders, pulled him closer and crashed their lips together, swiping his tongue along Loki’s teeth. Loki whimpered. And Tony groaned when he did, groaned and used both of his hands to pry Loki’s legs apart and come closer, closer, pleasure like a spike driven through his skull.

Loki  _ screamed. _

()()()

Tony jolted awake, breathing hard.

He curled onto his side and shuddered. Couldn’t… couldn’t breathe. Lungs not working. Couldn’t. Hyperventilating.

**Sir. I would advise you to count to three. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.**

“Don’t you think I’m  _ trying _ , Jarvis?” Tony yelled, heart hammering in his chest. Loki’s screams echoed through his head, again and again and again like cannonfire. 

And he half-expected, and definitely  _ wanted, _ selfishly, for Loki to be there, and to murmur softly to him, telling him to breathe in that insistent way that an AI could never hope to mimic, and Tony would take in shaking breath after shaking breath and then Loki would hug him and…

Tony was alone.

He swallowed, and rolled over, grunting when his chin hit the floor. He pushed himself up awkwardly, and crawled out from under the table, using its leg to support himself so he could stand up. And he leaned against the table and closed his eyes and listened as Jarvis told him to breathe, in his unfeeling voice with his stupid British accent.

“Jarvis, shut up,” Tony said. He waved his hand through the air vaguely, chest still heaving, lungs still burning. “Play some music.”

“You Shook Me All Night Long” started blaring through the hidden speakers. 

“Goddammit, Jarvis, don’t even start,” Tony said, before the vocals had even begun. The music died immediately, and Tony covered his face with his hands, taking huge heaving breaths. “Goddammit,” he muttered. “Goddammit.”

He wished Pepper were here.  _ She _ could handle this. And she wouldn’t be having depraved nightmares about forcing herself on a fucking rape victim. She definitely wouldn’t have  _ any _ desire to kiss him. Because she was normal and he was fucked up. 

He shuddered, crossed his arms, stared stoically at the wall as the seconds ticked by. 

“Where’s Loki?” he asked, the question seeming to come out of nowhere although of course he would want to know where Loki was, he probably wanted to go upstairs and lunge at him and force himself on him too.

**Mr. Odinson is currently sitting on the living room couch with a mug of tea and a physics book in his lap.**

See? See, Loki was fine; he didn’t need Tony. And sure, maybe Tony needed Loki, but that didn’t matter. 

Maybe within a day or two of separation, he would find a way to smother this stupid, awful desire, and he could go back upstairs. Maybe he could find a way to break the news to Loki - that they were going to have to sleep separately from now on - without Loki thinking that he was mad at him and…

Did Loki think Tony was angry at him?

Or what if he thought that Tony didn’t care about him? That he had left because he was fed up and was going to give Loki to SHIELD after all?

What if Loki decided to leave?

What if…

**Sir. I would advise you to count to three-**

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up!” Tony yelled, grabbing a random piece of metal and hurling it against the wall. He sank back against the table, sighing at his own stupidity, studying the floor as if the solution to all this was hidden there somehow.

He rubbed his eyes, and moved to stand in front of the table, staring at all the discarded pieces of metal, robotic fingers, gears and wires and tools. He pushed a face plate to the side with his finger, wincing at the scraping noise it made.

“Shit,” he muttered.

()()()

**Sir. Mr. Odinson requested that I ask you if you would like to join him for dinner.**

Tony had spent the rest of that day slumped in the corner of the workshop, doing everything he possibly could to keep himself distracted so he wouldn’t start drinking. But when Jarvis spoke, his head snapped up, and he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Unnngh,” he said. “What?”

**Mr. Odinson requested -**

“I  _ know _ !” he snapped. 

**What would you like me to tell him, sir?**

“Just gimme a sec, Jarvis, Jesus Christ!” Tony cried. He let his head fall back with a  _ thud _ against the wall. And almost instantly he had jumped up and begun to prowl around the workshop, picking up a repulsor and turning it in his hands. “No, I… I can’t. I’m too busy,” he muttered. “This damn repulsor. Not working. And the suits… I’ve gotta… gotta make one. Prob’ly. Something. Can’t go upstairs.”

**Would you like me to tell him that you are preoccupied and cannot eat with him at the moment?**

Tony’s first instinct was to say  _ yes, _ even though it was the flimsiest excuse in the world and there was no doubt in his mind that Loki would see through it, but he stopped himself quickly, resignation settling like a stone in his stomach. No, he wouldn’t lie to Loki. He couldn’t do that to him. That wasn’t fair.

“No,” he said, bowing his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “No. Tell him I’ll be up there in a few minutes. Gonna take a shower.”

**I will inform him, sir.**

Tony spent his shower leaning heavily against the wall, letting the water spray into his face. Practically drinking it. “Shit,” he kept saying. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He hoped that Loki wasn’t wearing his suit, because Tony had always thought he looked good in it, and what if… what if he drank too much, and tried to kiss him, or tried to… to do something  _ else _ \- and Loki wouldn’t refuse him, wouldn’t try to get away, would just stand there and let Tony  _ rape him _ …

Tony groaned when his brain helpfully supplied him with an image of Loki’s face, hair, eyes -  _ damn _ did he look good in that suit - and the feeling of his lips on his cheek…

He looked down.

_ “Shit, _ I’ve got…” he buried his face in his hands. “I’m disgusting.”

After he  _ took care _ of himself - hating every second of it, hating his body for reacting in this way, hating  _ himself _ \- he got dressed in a random band t-shirt and jeans and hesitated for a long, long time before finally stepping into the elevator, resigned to his fate.

()()()

Loki was wearing the suit.

“I meant to buy you another of those,” Tony muttered, gesturing at him vaguely, as he stepped out of the elevator and made a beeline for the fridge, purposefully avoiding looking at Loki any further. “Or three. Billionaire, you know. Scotch… is… good, do we have a - what cupboard are the glasses in?” he mumbled to himself, yanking open a couple of cupboards and even a drawer or two because hey, why not, he was stalling. He poured himself a drink, blinked at it, and held it out towards Loki, who was still lingering near the table. “Not drinking.  _ I’m _ ,” he clarified. “Not drinking. This’s for you. I’ll just… set it here.”

He put it on the counter, went back to the fridge, rummaged around, muttering to himself. “Fuck, no pizza. Should’ve ordered some. You know, there’s a Little Caesar’s around,” he waved his hand in a circle, and pulled out a loaf of bread.

“Tony…”

Loki was near him, all of a sudden. His hand brushed against Tony’s shoulder, and since when was such a light touch enough to make his heart start hammering, chills going down his spine?

Tony stared at him for a second before stepping away, and looking down at the thing he happened to be holding - the bread. He turned away, stuck it back in the fridge. “So what’s up? How’re you doing?” he muttered, picking at his fingernail.

Loki hesitated.

And Tony’s heart dropped with an audible  _ thud _ because… he had been so busy guilt-tripping about all of this that he had forgotten about how fragile Loki was, and he had left him on his own for more than a day without even coming to visit him once to see if he was okay… and just after everything that had happened, after Thor’s visit and after Loki had looked at the footage and everything, everything, and Tony had just left him. Alone.

Loki had probably woken up scared, disoriented, had probably had a panic attack without anyone there to help him, probably hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept…

Tony clenched his hands into fists and dropped them to his sides. No matter what he did, he ended up hurting Loki. And the last thing Loki needed was more pain.

"I am fine," Loki said, cautiously. "I was more worried about you."

Tony hesitated for much too long, staring blankly at a badly painted section of ceiling; the blue bleeding through into the white. His mind was taking Loki's words, spinning them in circles, bouncing them off the walls of his mind and making them echo, over and over and over again.

"Huh," he said. "That's... unnecessary."

In the corner of his eye, he could see Loki tense.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture," he said, turning his back on Loki, fiddling with the handle of a drawer, with the untouched glass of whisky, with his sleeve. "But it's unwarranted. I was tinkering. I tinker, you know. So I was doing that. And I was completely fine. More than fine - enjoying myself. There's nothing to worry about."

"You are angry at me," Loki stated. Flatly, as if it was a fact.

Tony whirled around. "Why the hell would I be angry at you?" he snapped.

Too loudly, probably, because Loki flinched, and took a step back.

"Sorry," Loki said, shaking his head slightly, relaxing his shoulders.

"Sorry," Tony said at the same time, reaching a hand out before snatching it back again. "Was just... saying. Saying that I'm not angry at you. Because it's true. I'm not."

Loki smiled sadly, and a strand of hair fell into his eyes, and Tony wanted to brush it away and hated himself for it.

"I understand," Loki said. "You do not have to lie. I have done more than enough to be deserving of your anger."

“New York wasn’t your fault,” Tony said, softly.

Loki ducked his head. Didn’t answer.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Loki said, suddenly. “Let’s get out of this place. It’s suffocating.”

Tony argued, saying that Loki shouldn’t use his magic, but Loki scoffed and three glowing green birds popped into existence with three cries and three brilliant dives as they landed on Tony’s shoulders and head in a bluster of wings and feathers. One of them bit him on the ear. “Ow!” he cried, and Loki laughed.

()()()

Mexico was beautiful.

Tony drove them to a forested road. He parked the car on the side of it and they got out. The trees swayed softly in the wind, sunlight danced through the branches and left stripes of dappled light on the ground. Through the trees, they could catch glimpses of sparkling blue water. It was the afternoon, and the air was cool, and Loki was wearing a hoodie, and holding the string in his mouth. His eyes were pretty.

Tony wanted to hold his hand but stopped himself.

Then Loki smiled at him, and held out his own hand, and Tony couldn’t do anything but take it.

They started to walk.

“I like this,” Loki said. The words came out garbled, so he spat out the string. “When we were at…” he paused. “At home, I felt like I couldn’t think. So much has happened. But it is nice to pretend that we can be at peace, for just a little while.”

Tony nodded his assent, although he wasn’t sure that Loki would notice, because he was craning his neck to look up at the sky. A “V” shaped flock of geese flew past, honking out a discordant rhythm.

And Tony wasn’t usually the type to enjoy things like this. To enjoy walking aimlessly, just for the hell of it. To look at the trees and feel his breath catch in awe of how gorgeous everything was. To feel that little gnawing thorn of desire in his chest. He wanted, more than anything, to pull Loki close and kiss him. 

He swallowed and look at the ground.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” he said, abruptly. He could feel Loki’s eyes on him. “I should have stayed with you.”  _ He was so selfish. _

Loki contemplated that for a moment. “I doubt you could have helped,” he said, sounding defeated. “I do not… I don’t know what to do. About  _ this _ . There are years of my life that I cannot remember. And I do not know if I  _ want _ to remember them. But I hate that they are gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

_ “You _ shouldn’t be sorry. You have done nothing wrong.”

They walked in silence.

Until Loki stopped, and Tony stopped as well when he felt that tug on his hand. Loki smiled at him, but it left almost instantly, and he put a hesitant hand on Tony’s shoulder, which made fucked up little butterflies start flying around in his stomach.

“Why  _ did _ you leave?” he asked. 

“I shouldn’t have,” Tony said. “You needed me. I’m sorry.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips. “No,” he said. “You don’t have to be sorry for wanting to be away from me. You are entitled to go wherever you please.”

“I didn’t leave because of you,” Tony said. “It was just… everything was… too much for me to handle, for a little while. But I’m back now.  _ We’re _ back now. More of a mess than ever but  _ good. _ ”

“Good,” Loki whispered.

Tony wasn’t sure who initiated the hug, but they were suddenly all tangled up in armfuls of each other, skin and warmth and Loki’s hair in his face.

“You need a proper haircut,” he mumbled into Loki’s shoulder. “Forgot about that. Just remembered. You pull it off, ‘course, but a prince should at least have his hair cut straight.”

Loki laughed.

()()()

And as they walked, he told Tony about the memories he had of New York, which ones he didn’t have, which things he would never have foreseen himself doing, the things that had brought chills to his spine when he witnessed them through the screen.

And many times, he muttered to himself, something like, “It was so pathetic of me, to let them use me like that,” or, “I should have fought them. I shouldn’t have  _ let _ this happen.” And every time Tony would remind him that no, he was strong, he was brave and he had done all he could and it wasn’t his fault.

He wasn’t sure if Loki believed him. But he smiled and nodded, regardless, as if he did.

And that was when Tony stopped walking, turned to face him, and said, “If there is any chance at getting revenge on Thanos, I will be there with you, every step of the way. I’ll let you get the first good hit in, of course, but I’d like to take a turn and pummel him myself.”

And he had expected Loki to laugh bitterly, to say something like, “We both know that that will never be possible.” or “I’d prefer to handle that on my own, thanks.” But instead he grinned, genuinely grinned, and said, “I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.”

He then, of course, proceeded to explain in vicious detail the many ways in which he would torture Thanos, starting with ripping off his purple fingernails and ending with filing down the ridges of his chin and pouring the leftover chin-dust into his eyes. They were all equally specific and equally gruesome and Tony relished in the viciousness that he heard in Loki’s voice, in the way he wrenched his fists in the air to demonstrate how he would snap Thanos’ neck..

But as they walked, Loki kept grabbing his hand or putting his arm on Tony’s waist and every time Tony tried not to tense up, tried not to pull away, or worse - to lean into the touch. But it was hard when the guilt felt like someone had punched him and he kept worrying that he was going to finally give in to this urge that he felt, the urge to pull Loki close and kiss him. 

Or more.

He glanced at Loki, and Loki looked at him for only a moment before averting his eyes. He pulled his hand out of Tony’s and clasped them both in front of his chest, humming softly to himself, closing his eyes and continuing to walk. Tony hoped it was because he knew that if he stumbled, Tony would be there to catch him.

Then Loki stopped again.

Took a deep breath.

And turned towards Tony with a smile on his face.

“I think,” he began, “That in this moment, I am… as close to whole as I can be.”

Tony opened his mouth to interrupt him, but Loki put a finger to his lips.

“I’m broken, Tony, but right now I don’t  _ feel _ it. That’s because of you,” he said, glancing to the side, looking back again, his eyes shining. “You should know that all of  _ this,” _ he gestured at himself. “Is because of you. Without you I’d be dead, or… or rotting away somewhere, I don’t know. But you have helped me time and time again, and I…”

He hesitated for a long time, his eyes never leaving Tony’s, his breath warm on Tony’s face, like a breeze, like the rush of magic coursing beneath his skin.

And it  _ was _ magic, Tony realized. Realized that he could feel the movement of it, the energy, filling him up and making him alive and his breath caught as the world tipped and spun.

Crashing back down into the breadth of a single sentence.

“Can I kiss you?” Loki asked.

Tony froze as his heart thudded like the heavy beat of a drum, as his chest ached. Loki’s hands were warm. And he was so close. And…

Yes, yes,  _ yes _ , he wanted  _ nothing _ more.

But he stopped himself, put a hand on Loki’s chest and pushed him ever-so-gently away, so there was a bit of distance between them, so he could no longer feel Loki’s warm breath on his skin.

“You  _ want _ to do this. Right? This isn’t… memories, or… or... you know that it’s  _ me, _ right?”

Loki’s brows furrowed as he nodded. “Of course I know that it is you. Tony. I don’t think I could want to do this with anyone but you.”

“But…” Tony trailed off. Hesitating. “You  _ want  _ to do this. You want to.” 

“Of course I do” Loki said. And his eyes were shining, and there was a smile on his lips, nothing close to the dread that had hung heavy on his body when he knelt in front of Thor… and if he truly wanted it, then… then why not?

“Then… yeah,” Tony said, and his heart leapt. “Yeah, you can.”

A couple walked by, holding hands. A jogger ran past with a dog. The sun lingered high above the horizon, and everything was bathed in bright golden light. The sound of passing conversations, flowing past like the breeze. It was getting cold, and Tony shivered.

Loki looked uncertain, suddenly, and glanced behind him nervously when another couple walked by.

“At home,” Tony said. “If that’s okay?”

Loki nodded gratefully.

At the same time, they both offered their hands. And continued to walk, in silence, back to the car. 

Tony felt like he could fly.

_ He felt like a smitten teenager. _

“Excuse me, sir, would you mind taking a picture of us?” someone asked.

Loki turned before Tony could (and Tony realized that that was good, because to everyone but Loki, he looked like a woman), turned, nodded, and smiled, letting go of Tony’s hand. His fingers brushed against those of the strangers as he took the offered camera and waited for he and two small children to line up along the edge of the road, squinting into the setting sun.

“Smile,” Loki said, smiling.

They did.

_ Click. _

He handed the camera back, and didn’t flinch when the man patted him on the shoulder, saying, “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“I hope that you have a wonderful night as well,” Loki said, his voice going strangely hoarse.

He looked back towards Tony once they had gone, turned quietly and with a sadness in his eyes. “I’m crying,” he said.

He was. 

Tony reached out, cautiously, and brushed the tears away. Then he reached an arm around Loki’s shoulders, pulling him close, and rested their foreheads together, breathing softly because he wanted to stay like this forever, in this place with nothing but a cool breeze and the warmth of Loki’s skin; no pain, no memories, just them.

When did he become so sappy?

(Oh, he shouldn’t even pretend. He had always been that way.)

“Sentiment,” Tony said, softly.

Loki smiled, even as a tear fell from his eye, cutting a path down his cheek.

()()()

“It was because I wanted to kiss you,” Tony admitted, once they were in the car, driving away. “I worried that I wouldn’t be able to control myself, so I stayed away. I’m sorry.”

“That is more than all right,” Loki said, without taking his eyes off him. As if he had never seen Tony before. “Thank you, actually. I am grateful that you would care so much.”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” Tony said, feebly.

“Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage to ask if I.... hadn’t missed you so much.”

“You missed me?” Tony took his eyes off the road for much too long, staring at Loki.

Loki looked uncomfortable. “Of course. I had no one to ridicule when you were gone."

Tony looked away. "Why would you be afraid to ask?" 

"I thought you wouldn't want me."

Tony blinked, eyes watering, and wrapped one of his hands around both of Loki’s, which were folded in his lap. “Oh, Lokes,” he said.

()()()

Ice cream was a must.

Tony ordered chocolate, and Loki ordered strawberry, insisting despite how strongly Tony advised against it.

“You do not like the taste of fruit?” Loki asked, elegantly raising one eyebrow, and taking a monstrous bite. He had one of his feet up on the dashboard, and no matter how many times Tony told him to stop he kept doing it. Tony had given up at this point.

“It’s not that. It’s just that chocolate is so much better,” Tony said. 

Loki laughed at him.

Tony wanted to kiss him.

“Put these on,” he muttered, pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket and practically throwing them at Loki’s face. “I can’t look at you.”

Loki snorted, but put them on. 

“They’re too blocky for your face,” Tony said. “That doesn’t mean you get to take them off!” he cried, when Loki reached up.

Loki very clearly rolled his eyes, and took another huge bite. And another.

“You’re gonna get brain freeze,” Tony said.

“I doubt it,” Loki said. “My body is much more durable than your mortal frame.”

“Oh shut up.”

It was a simple conversation, and a fun one, too, but over it all was lingering the fact that now they  _ could _ kiss, and they probably  _ would _ , and just the knowledge of that made Tony feel like his brain was short-circuiting. 

_ He was like a smitten teenager. _

He wondered when it would happen. What it would  _ feel  _ like. And the best thing was that now he got to wonder, without any guilt.

But he would wait for Loki to make the first move.

Obviously. It was only fair. It was only  _ right. _

And so he watched as Loki took another nonchalant bite of ice cream, trying not to glare at him because  _ Jesus Christ, _ was he trying to be irritating? 

Loki smirked at him.

So  _ yes, _ he was one hundred percent trying to be obnoxious.

“Something the matter, Tony?” he asked, licking his lips. 

“No,” Tony said. He crossed his arms and hunched down in his seat to clearly display his irritation. “No. Nope. Take your sweet time, my liege.”

Haha. Pun intended.

When they got home, Tony watched while Loki paced around with his arms crossed, glaring at every piece of furniture. He was still wearing Tony’s sunglasses, but Tony could tell that he was glaring. 

“What did the futon ever do to you?” Tony asked, arms crossed, absentmindedly wondering why he hadn’t thought to have them sleep on that instead of the normal couch. 

Loki growled and kicked it. “This house is hideous,” he said. “I require a view worth seeing.”

“I’m here.”

Loki scoffed at him. “I’ve seen  _ you _ often enough.”

“That’s rude. I’m offended.”

“I didn’t say I dislike seeing you,” Loki said, smirking mischievously.

If Tony had been eating something, he probably would have choked on it.

Which was ridiculous because he  _ knew _ he was attractive - people had been telling him for years, and all he had to do was look in a mirror to confirm their claims - and yet it was so different hearing Loki say it. It meant a hell of a lot more. Or maybe he cared a hell of a lot more? Either way, his face was heating up and it was embarrassing.

“Are you…”

“Sunburn,” he said. “Mortal - guh,  _ human _ \- skin is like, is like bacon, it burns so easily. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Yep.”

Loki studied him for a moment further, before turning away, heading for the door. “Out,” he ordered, snapping a finger at Tony. 

Tony didn’t move.

Loki snatched the glasses off his face so that Tony could see his dramatic eye roll. “I apologize. Please exit the premises,” he said, gesturing towards the doorway with a flourish.

Tony did.

“This reminds me of Asgard,” Loki said, as they stepped out into the chill of the night air, hand in hand. Stars burned overhead, and the moon was a smoldering sliver deep-set in a midnight blue sky. 

A raindrop landed on Tony’s nose. He made a little choking noise in the back of his throat, and Loki laughed at him. The butterflies burst to life again. 

“How?” Tony asked, as the grass crunched beneath their feet, and Loki led him into the trees.

“There was a garden outside of the palace,” Loki said. “There were red flowers in it. Big, bright red flowers. I would help them to grow with my magic.”

“There aren’t any flowers here,” Tony said.

“Hmm.” Loki seemed amused. 

They walked for a while longer.

Loki looked around. “Yes, this is a good place. It is quiet here.”

“It is.”

And now Loki looked down at Tony, and smiled faintly. “Well, Tony Stark.”

“You’re sure about this.”

“Oh  _ Tony _ , I pity you and your fragile mortal mind. Of  _ course _ I am sure.”

Tony grinned. “Then go ahead.”

Loki grinned as well, with mischief in his eyes, and then he leaned in close, his hands on Tony’s shoulders, and kissed him on the lips, softly and surely as if he had been doing it all his life. 

And there was no tongue or moaning or ass-grabbing involved, but Loki’s lips were soft and he was smiling and smelled like strawberries.

Tony was about to melt.

And  _ oh, _ was he smitten.

Tony leaned too much of his weight against him, and Loki took a staggering step backward, nearly falling over. Tony pulled away just long enough to laugh before grabbing him and kissing him again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into Loki’s lips.

“Mm,” Loki replied. He kissed Tony on the forehead, and held him close.

They stayed there for what felt like a long time, but was probably not even a minute, before both pulling away.

“S’cold,” Tony said. “Hot chocolate?”

“Never had it,” Loki said, as they began to walk back to the house, hand in hand. “But it sounds delicious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D  
> yeyyyy  
> Thanks for reading! And please do leave a comment, I'm VERY excited to see what y'all thought of this chapter!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. Life's been a bit hectic lately, and usually the only time I get for writing/editing is after 11 pm, which I'm definitely not used to, but I am going to try to make getting these chapters out more of a priority, since this long of a break was pretty ridiculous considering I've already got the whole thing finished. Again, sorry about that! 
> 
> (And thanks to my beta Docwordsmith for being amazing <3)
> 
> In other news, my new story - which I'm calling "Damaged Goods" - is coming along nicely. However, for this one I think I'm gonna try getting the whole thing edited and polished before I post. But the first chapter's already been edited and I don't think I'm gonna have to change any of it later on so... I might post it sometime this week! Hopefully. It's pretty short, mostly just a teaser for the angst to come :) so if I ever manage to get that posted I'll tell you!
> 
> Anyway, self-promos aside, enjoy some inevitable post-kiss angst!!! <3

Tony was pacing around the room with his hands in his hair, muttering to himself, “I just kissed Loki. I just kissed Loki,” over and over.

Loki was sprawled on the couch with a glass of some unidentified drink in his hand, watching him. 

Tony stopped and stared at him. “I just… I just kissed  _ Loki. _ Holy hell stuffed in a bag of shit.”

Loki sighed. “Are you quite done?”

_ “No,” _ Tony said, staggering over to the couch and slumping into it. He looked at Loki. “I just kissed you.”

“Mmm,” Loki said, setting his glass on the floor and pulling Tony close by the collar, pressing their lips together. Tony blinked at him. 

And perhaps Loki would have found it pathetic, that he knew that simple kiss was all he would be able to handle - if, once Tony pulled away, his eyes hadn’t gone wide, and he hadn’t started muttering under his breath again, “I just kissed Loki.  _ Again. _ Holy shit. Holy fuck. Oh my god.”

And perhaps it wouldn’t have been pathetic either way. Because he knew that  _ Tony _ didn’t think he was pathetic. And… and Tony wouldn’t lie.

And Loki watched, as if in a dream, as Tony grinned at him, and crawled awkwardly nearer, resting his head on his chest of his own  _ accord, _ by his own  _ choice, _ no reason other than he wanted to be near to Loki, wanted to touch him. 

Tony was a genius.

He wouldn’t want to be with someone who was weak. Who was stupid. 

And yet he had chosen Loki.

And what did that mean?

For despite how strongly Loki wanted to believe that he  _ wasn’t _ , that he wasn’t pathetic, wasn’t all those things that the Chitauri had called him as they  _ used _ him, used him like the object - like the  _ thing _ that he was… it was hard. It was impossible.

He had forgotten for a while. Just long enough to gather the courage to kiss Tony. But now their taunts were echoing in his ears, and perhaps if Tony hadn’t been holding him so tightly, Loki would have pushed him away, would have shaken him to knock some sense into him, so that he would remember what Loki  _ was. _

But Loki couldn’t bring himself to remind him.

Tony must have felt him stiffen, because he put a hand on his chest and said, “You okay?”

Loki looked away. “Yes.”

No.

No, he wasn’t.

He shouldn’t have kissed him. Shouldn’t have. 

Not because he didn’t  _ want _ it. He did. But he should have waited. Should have waited forever, should never have asked.

He swallowed, something within him shaking.

“Hey,” Tony said, running a hand through Loki’s hair. “Hey, I’m right here. Hey, you’re okay.”

Tony kissed him on his neck, on his jawline, on the side of his head, and he was so warm and so close and Loki wanted to stay here forever, but…

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered.

Tony’s eyes softened as he rested his fingertips on Loki’s cheek. “Of course you do,” he said, so confidently, as if it was a fact. “You do. You deserve everything. You deserve the world.”

And Loki realized that Tony didn’t know.

Didn’t know what he was - a monster, a beast,  _ oh _ if Tony saw his true form, his true hideous skin, he would never kiss him again.

He didn’t know about the… the dizzying, the spiraling explosion of loss, of… of betrayal and rage and loneliness, and it hurt even to remember all the things that had led him to try to destroy Jotunheim.

Tony didn’t know that in the end, it had been too much, and Loki had tried to put the monster to death.

Tony didn’t know that sometimes he still wanted to.

Even if nothing beyond his fall from the Bifrost had been his fault, even if (and he didn’t believe it) but even if the things Thanos had done to him truly didn’t make him… didn’t make him anything  _ lesser _ …

There was still so much that Tony didn’t know.

And if he did, would he still be here?

Because all he saw when he looked at Loki must be… must be a victim, just a victim of an endless number of horrible things, just a person who had done absolutely nothing to deserve them. 

And in the end, Tony didn’t know what Thanos had done to him, either. Didn’t know how he had fallen asleep soaked in his own piss. Didn’t know that when they burned him, it had smelled like cooking meat and he had started to salivate.

Didn’t know about the illusion of Thor. Didn’t know how Loki had allowed himself to be raped by an image of his own brother. It was disgusting.  _ He was disgusting. _

_ “You deserve the world,” _ Tony had said.

No, no, no, Loki didn’t believe him.

_ He wanted to. _

He couldn’t.

Because if Tony knew the truth, he wouldn’t have said that. He wouldn’t even  _ touch _ him.

Loki regarded Tony with sadness; the way he smiled at Loki as if he was something worth smiling at, the way he touched his face as if he was worth touching _. _

And Loki felt a lump in his throat, felt heat behind his eyes. He felt like he was about to cry, about to cry because he  _ wanted _ to stay here, and wanted to be worth something, wanted Tony to kiss him and wanted to be worth kissing.

But he had been made wrong.

_ Oh, Norns, _ he thought.  _ Fuck you.  _

()()()

Loki lay awake long after Tony had fallen asleep.

When the clock hit midnight, he slipped off the couch and went outside.

He brought a knife.

And walked to the edge of the trees, looking out over a quiet road, the occasional car rumbling down it, headlights glaring. Mist hit him like needles and he blinked it out of his eyes.

He turned the knife in his hands. Just to feel its push and its pull, like waves, like the wax and wane of the moon. If he wanted to, he could be swept away. 

Then it burst to life behind his eyes. 

Tony’s nightmare.

Loki was cowering against the wall. His shirt was split open; the burn was bright and red on his chest. WHORE, it said, screaming at him.  _ Whore, whore, whore. _

Thor stood over him. Grinning down. 

Grabbed him - fingers, hands, coming out of the dark, everywhere - grabbed his knees and forced them apart and was coming close, close, too close, everywhere too close too close pain pain  _ pain-- _

Loki screamed. He screamed in the dream and he screamed in real life, covering his head with his hands, curled up on the damp grass and watching as Thor raped him and blood flew everywhere. He left crimson handprints on the ground and there were stains on the front of Thor’s shirt. It trickled from Loki’s eyes and his mouth and ran in rivers down his legs.

And Loki screamed.

Shaking, he screamed. He screamed without breathing and he screamed while sobbing, covering his face with his hands.

And the nightmare ended.

Abruptly. Just as soon as it began, it was gone.

Loki knew what that meant. Knew exactly what that meant. But he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe couldn’t move could do nothing but shake until Tony was there and was holding him close and whispering lies into his ears, things like “You’ll be all right.”

Loki didn’t know what to do.

So he melted into Tony’s arms and allowed himself to be hugged even though he didn’t deserve it and never would.

()()()

“Right. I’m cashing in Rule Three,” Tony said.

They were sitting across the table from each other. Both with a drink, and Loki with a sneer on his face and his elbow resting casually on his knee, pretending to be fine because what else could he do?

He watched as a green spark fell from his fingertips, fizzling out on the tabletop.

“I went for a walk,” he said, examining his nails. 

“With a knife?”

“Naturally.”

Tony reached for his hand, but Loki pretended not to notice.

He was wondering if he should leave. He  _ could. _ He was strong enough. He could teleport himself to some distant, desolate moon, or he could go get himself locked away in Asgard, or he could buy a drink at an alien pub somewhere; there were so many places he could go.  _ Be free. _

He wondered if he should stay. Tell Tony everything, and see if Tony would kiss him  _ then. _ It would be like a test.  _ But Loki didn’t want him to fail. _

Should he continue to lie?  _ Was that unfair? _

He cast Tony a sharp glance. He was in the middle of taking a sip of his drink, but he froze halfway, the ice clinking together, the amber liquid about to spill all over the table. “What?” he asked, and it did, spilling out all over his shirt. “Shit,” he said, staring down at himself. 

Loki huffed and waved his hand through the air. The stain vanished. “Honestly, I am impressed by the number of things you can drop or spill or trip over in one day, Stark.”

“Thanks. Uh, Stark?”

“Tony.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever,” Tony said, clearly trying and failing miserably to think of a comeback. 

No, no he couldn’t leave. He had already ruined Tony’s life. Had already lost him all of his friends and turned him into an enemy of the public - the Iron Viper. 

And besides, he didn’t actually want to leave. He wanted to stay here.

With Tony.

Loki flattened his lips into a line.

“And the screaming?” Tony asked, in a ridiculously casual voice, as if he was commenting on the weather.

“What about the screaming?” Loki asked, faintly amused.

“What about the screaming,” Tony muttered under his breath. “I mean  _ why _ were you screaming?”

“Nightmare.”

“While you were taking a walk?”

“I fell asleep outside.”

“So you’d rather sleep on the hard ground where it’s raining and cold than sleep inside where it’s warm and you could be cuddling  _ me?” _ he asked.

Loki sighed dramatically, about to make a dry comment about how sharp Tony’s elbows were, when he stopped and looked him dead in the eyes, thinking. Then he stopped thinking, and spoke. “What is the plan?”

“Plan? Answer my question.”

“No. What is the plan?”

Tony leaned forward on his elbows. “There’s no plan. Why would there be a plan? What plan?”

“For you. For me. For  _ us _ . What will we do? Where will we  _ go?  _ You do know of something called  _ thinking ahead _ , don’t you? It’s very practical in certain situations…”

“Shut up,” Tony said, taking another sip from his drink, and waving a hand vaguely through the air. “You think I’ve been making  _ plans _ lately? Breaking you out of SHIELD was a spur-of-the-moment decision. So was everything else. Aside from kissing you; I was thinking about that for a while, actually, and maybe we could…”

“You are an idiot,” Loki said. His voice broke and he didn’t know why. And in one smooth motion, he downed the rest of his drink. 

“Well then,” Tony muttered. “I mean, I’ve been told that before, by many people, so the insult doesn’t have the same bite that it used to…”

“ _ Stop,” _ Loki said, slamming his glass back down onto the table, staring stubbornly out the window, “Turning this into a joke. There is nothing  _ funny _ about any of this.”

“What’s the problem? You haven’t told me what’s bothering you. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

And Loki froze, with the answer on the tip of his tongue:  _ you shouldn’t have kissed me. _

And Tony would ask why.

And once Loki told him, Tony would be gone. Like water slipping through his hands.

Loki would be alone. Again. Forever. Who else did he have?  _ What _ else did he have? He had nothing.

_ You are nothing, _ the Chitauri said, whispering in his ears.  _ King of dust and ashes, king of dirt and worms. _

“Hey, hey, Lokes, are you sure you’re okay?” Tony asked. “You’re kind of… spacing out.” He waved his hand in front of Loki’s face.

Loki grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I am fine. I think I will retire to my room now…” he trailed off, stood up and made his way to the elevator.

Tony grabbed his wrist, and stepped in close, so that they were mere inches away. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. 

Loki shook his head, gently pulling his wrist out of Tony’s grasp. And he closed his eyes against the ghostly brush of Tony’s fingers across his cheek, but mercifully, Tony didn’t kiss him, instead he stepped away quickly, watching as Loki got into the elevator, watching until the doors closed and Loki was alone.

()()()

He paced.

It was the only thing keeping him from tearing apart his room, from hurling the furniture against the wall, shattering the mirror on the floor, ripping apart the bedsheets and the blanket.

He did tear apart the pillow. He ripped it into pieces, and set the pieces on fire. It gave him a disproportionate amount of satisfaction, and he smiled at the flames before finally relenting and snuffing them out with a wave of his hand. He didn’t want to burn Tony’s house down.

He talked out loud to himself; a habit that had begun in Thanos’ dungeons, and one he suspected would never leave.

“I’m going to tell him,” he said, turning on his heel, running his fingers across a dusty tabletop. “Norns, do you hear me? I’ll tell him everything. And you may think that you can play with my life but I am going to tell him and you will  _ not take him from me,” _ he spat the words, feeling the rage boil in his chest again and embracing it because if he didn’t have his rage then he didn’t know what would end up replacing it.

And wasn’t it fitting. The Silvertongue, lying even to the weavers of fate. 

“You will not take him from me,” he repeated, not even believing himself.

He wrapped his arms over his chest closed his eyes and  _ breathed. _ For if Tony finally came to his senses and told him to leave (because despite everything, he couldn’t imagine that Tony would hand him over to SHIELD, or kill him, and just the thought made him want to throw up), at least he would have breath in his lungs, and at least he would be free from Thanos, and at least he would have the memories of a gentle touch and soft lips and a quiet voice and a million things he didn’t deserve but which had been  _ his, _ if only for a short time.

He had never had anything like this before.

And he didn’t think he could ever forget it.

()()()

When he reentered the living room, he felt like he was walking to a funeral.  _ He always was a pessimist. _

“Stark.” 

Tony looked up from his phone, eyes unreadable - most likely just because it was dark. “Tony.”

Loki paused. Breathed. “Tony.”

“You okay?”

Loki didn’t answer the question. Instead he crossed to where Tony was sitting and stood in front of him, looking down. Thanos would never have let Loki look down on him. But there had been many things Thanos had never let him do. Sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. Eat more than foul-smelling slop. Speak freely. 

Loki sat down next to Tony, hands folded in his lap, looking down at them. Several of his nails were raw and chewed. He never used to bite his nails. 

Tony touched his shoulder.

And Loki flinched.

It wasn’t a flinch born from memories, from phantom claws digging into his shoulders. He didn’t know where it had come from or why it was there but it was a flinch nonetheless and they all looked the same, so Tony drew his hand away like he had been burnt. “I’m sorry…”

And Loki  _ hated _ the look in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured.  _ Something’s wrong with me.  _ “There are… things I would like to tell you.”

“Shoot.”

Loki glanced at him, taken aback, momentarily forgetting the circumstances. “And which of your ridiculous references is this?”

Tony must have been tense, for his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he leaned back, arms folded. “S’just a thing. People say it. Means ‘go ahead’. So… go ahead.”

Loki nodded.

He started with the Frost Giants.

“There are nine realms,” he began. “You know of Asgard, the home of the Aesir. This is Midgard. There is one called Jotunheim. And there are creatures living on it, the ancient enemies of Asgard. Savages.”

And Tony listened patiently as Loki explained the blood-soaked history of Asgard and Jotunheim, as he described the wasteland the Frost Giants lived in, their hideous appearance and how deeply the Aesir despised them.

“Thor used to be an idiot. Stuck-up and proud and reckless and unfit to be king, so I thought to ruin his coronation by letting the Frost Giants into Asgard.”

He told Tony about Thor’s banishment, his own short rule as king, his attempt to destroy Jotunheim. And he left out any excuses. Just the truth, as cold and as damning as it may be.

He told Tony about his discovery that  _ he _ was one of the monsters. He was sure that Thor must have already told him, but he still felt that he had to say it. He didn’t show him his true form, because he didn’t think he could stand to see that… that disgust in Tony’s eyes. He had never seen anything like that in his eyes before and he didn’t want to. Especially not towards him. He would show him at another time. 

(Besides, he had  _ told _ Tony how disgusting the Frost Giants were. He didn’t think that Tony would have to  _ see _ it, too, to get his point across. Hopefully.)

But when it came time to tell of his fall from the Bifrost, his words stuttered to a stop and he looked at the ground, unable to say it, unable to tell Tony that he had  _ let go. _

_ I tried to put the monster to death, Tony. _

_ I was too much of a coward to face my own mistakes. _

_ To face the  _ thing _ that I am. _

_ (To face my father.) _

No warrior would choose such an end. No, no true warrior would ever do such a thing. But Loki had always been meant to die.

And if he was going to tell Tony anything then he had to tell him everything. He had to lay it all out now. He had to.

So he forced himself to speak.

“When Thor destroyed the Bifrost,” he said, his voice coming out thin as if someone was choking him. “We both fell over its edge, dangling over the Void beneath. But Odin appeared, and Thor grabbed hold of Odin’s hand, and I grabbed hold of Gungnir. And I have a strong grip. I would have been saved.”

He looked at Tony, who was already looking at him. The silence must have stretched too long, for Tony murmured, “But…?”

And suddenly Loki was so tempted to tell Tony to just  _ ask him, _ to demand an answer because that would be easier.

But he didn’t.

Instead he cleared his throat and raised his chin and said, loudly and clearly so that there was no chance Tony wouldn’t hear: “I let go.”

The silence hung in the air, heavy, Loki forced himself to meet Tony’s eyes without flinching and without looking away and he had this sudden, nauseating urge to draw his knees up to his chest and bury his face in them, or perhaps to cry, but he did neither.

“Is that all?” Tony asked, so kindly.

“No,” Loki said.

But he didn’t speak for a long time.

Sure, he could have expected that Tony wouldn’t care about any of that. Wouldn’t care about what color Loki’s skin was, or that Loki had tried to - to kill himself (because Tony wasn’t like that). And he could have foreseen that Tony wouldn’t care about what Loki had tried to do to Jotunheim, because he seemed to no longer care about New York.

But this…

This was different.

And Loki didn’t want to  _ lose _ this, because he had only had it for such a short time, and…

But if he didn’t tell Tony everything, then how could he be sure that this was even real?

“I’m sorry,” Loki began with, out of habit, out of… fear.

Gods, he hadn’t even told Tony yet. 

Tony’s hand landed lightly on his arm. He didn’t speak.

“I’ve been staying awake,” Loki said, finally, something within his voice trembling, something inside of him broken apart. He could imagine shreds of himself, like a ripped apart flag, blowing pathetically in the wind.

Tony didn’t tense, didn’t react, just stayed there, watching him closely.

“And I…”

He swallowed.

“And I went into your mind, without permission,” he said, giving in. “To take your nightmares. So you would stop having them. And the spell made me watch them. And I…”

Tony’s grip had gone from light to almost bruising.

“Tony,” Loki said, in a small voice, panic rising. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I--”

_ “What?” _ Tony snapped. “What do you  _ mean _ you watched my nightmares?”

“It’s--” Loki tried to jerk his arm away, but couldn’t. He forced himself to breathe slowly. To answer clearly. Answer quickly. “They - my magic made them play in the back of my mind, like they were my own dreams, but I couldn’t - turn them off. I’m sorry.”

Tony stared at him.

“Tony,” Loki said, desperately. “You’re hurting me.”

Tony let go immediately.

“How many times?” he asked.

And, trained to answer questions as he was, Loki answered quickly and honestly and without hesitating, only allowing himself to think once the words had already left his mouth. “Nearly every night.”

Tony shook his head.

“No,” he said.  _ “No. _ Loki, those dreams were terrible!” he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “And you - and you need to  _ sleep,  _ or you won’t heal, and… and  _ gods,  _ I dreamt about you… bleeding, and… and…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I  _ know _ that it’s not my fucking fault!” Tony yelled, and Loki flinched, but Tony didn’t seem to care. “You shouldn’t have been poking around in my brain! You shouldn’t have been hurting yourself like this! Do you know how fucking guilty this’ll make me feel?”

“I’m sorry--”

“I don’t  _ care,” _ Tony snapped.

He clenched his fists, breathing hard.

Once he had calmed down a bit, he looked back up at Loki. “You won’t do it again, will you?”

“No,” Loki said. “I should never have done it in the first place. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

He paused.

"Jarvis can wake you up when you need it. Or me, if I do."

**That is correct, Mr. Loki.**

Loki smiled slightly, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that before. Such a simple solution, really.

"Loki," Tony said.

"It's all right if you're mad."

Tony looked away. "Well... yeah, I guess I am mad. But it's okay, as long as you honestly won't do it again. And if you say you won't, then I'll trust you."

Loki didn't speak.

"I know you only did it to help me," Tony said. "I'm sure you only did it to - and, well, maybe to avoid--" he broke off. "But you do know, now, that you don't have to do anything to yourself that would... put you in danger. Or harm you, in any way. I'm not saying this right," he said, with a short little sob of a laugh, covering his face with his hands.

"I know what you are trying to say," Loki said.

“Is that all?” Tony asked.

Loki stared at him. “It is all I have to say _ ,” _ he said, in the tone of someone who had just poured his heart out. 

Tony’s eyes softened. “Then come here,” he said, putting his hands on Loki’s shoulders, drawing him close, resting their foreheads together. Soft breathing. Loki heard him swallow.

Tony kissed him on the forehead.

_ Still. _

_ Even still. _

_ Tony would kiss him. _

“I don’t understand,” Loki said, because what was the harm in giving this away, as well? “How you can stand to touch me.”

Tony stiffened.

And then, as if to prove a point, he pulled Loki even closer, wrapping his arms around him. It was so familiar, Loki realized. And it felt so natural. Was that ridiculous? Oh, most definitely.

Was that wrong? Should he pull away, and deny himself this because it wasn’t  _ his to claim? _

“I’ve never kissed anyone out of pity. Definitely not for some sick game. The only reason I’ve ever kissed someone is because they were hot and I wanted to,” Tony said. “Unless you’re forcing me to kiss you. Are you?”

“ _ No,” _ Loki said, pulling away, taken aback. “Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tony said, and kissed him.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeee thanks for reading!! Ily <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again!!!  
> Okay 2 things, first: I posted the first chapter of that other story I've been talking about constantly!! I'd love if you went and checked it out! Okay that's it, I won't bother you about that anymore.  
> Also, big thanks to DocWordsmith for fixing the last line of this chapter (I'm sure you all will be able to guess what the edit was) because I was a dolt and didn't see the VERY OBVIOUS thing that had to happen... you'll see what I'm talking about (and now you have to read to the end ;)  
> Anywayyyyy please enjoy the angst!!

Thankfully, for the rest of that day, Loki seemed happy.

_ Actually _ happy. Not pretending to be happy.

Tony had learned to tell the difference.

He made sure to touch him, to kiss him, as much as possible (not an obnoxious amount, but often enough) and not only because he liked doing it, although that was a factor, but mainly because he wanted Loki to know that Tony  _ liked _ him, that Tony wanted to be close to him. 

And he didn’t want to treat Loki like a child, congratulating him on every little thing he did, but it was hard when all Tony wanted to do was compliment him. Tell him how strong he was and how deserving, how deserving of everything, until he believed it.

Tony wasn’t angry that Loki had tried to destroy an entire realm (what a thought), after all, he had been fine with hanging around the guy when he had still thought him responsible for New York. Plus, it wasn’t as if he knew the realm personally, or was going to suddenly retract his earlier forgiveness over this. But Loki couldn’t seem to fathom the fact that Tony wasn’t angry at him.

Although, he suspected Loki wasn’t only worried about Tony’s reaction to the attempted-realm-destruction incident. 

The way he had talked about the Frost Giants was horrible. He had spoken about them as if they were animals. Inferior in every way. Which meant that… he considered  _ himself _ inferior too. And Tony wasn’t going to tolerate that. His house was meant to be a Racism (internalized or other) Free Zone. Especially when it came to people he cared about. He wanted Loki to feel  _ good _ about himself.

And Tony found himself sticking closer to Loki’s side than ever. Tensing up whenever Loki announced that he was going to go throw some knives. Even though Loki seemed happy. And he wouldn’t kill himself if he was happy, right?

Tony was probably thinking about this all wrong, was probably missing something, and maybe Loki was suffering still but Tony wouldn’t realize, and then it would be too late and...

“This is delicious,” Loki declared, gesturing towards the plate of chicken wings Tony had heated up for him in the microwave. 

Tony smiled, pushing back his worrying, circular thoughts.

Loki had buffalo sauce and ranch all over his fingers and seemed quite pleased about it. Tony’s attention was more drawn to the pile of picked-clean bones on his plate. 

He had to bite back another compliment, because he was sure Loki wouldn’t take well to being praised for eating. 

“Thanks,” he said, smearing one of his own wings in ranch. “It was really hard to make.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

And then they went to sleep, and Tony woke up after one  _ hell _ of a nightmare with a smile on his face because if he had had a nightmare, then that meant that Loki hadn’t stolen it, and that he had actually slept.

()()()

The next morning, Loki shook him awake, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Whaddafuck do ya think… ungh, it’s fucking six in the morning, Lokes,” Tony slurred, squinting against the light, feeling horribly groggy. He yawned majestically.

“The scars are gone!” Loki cried. He sat on the floor backwards, showing Tony his scarless back. “See? They’re gone!”

Wait, what? Loki was shirtless?

Holy sh-- “That’s great,” Tony mumbled. He reached out awkwardly and flapped his hand against Loki’s shoulder. “Good job.”

Loki let out an exasperated huff, half-turning so Tony could get a good view of his eye roll.

At first, his eyes were drawn to the bandage on his chest, and he nearly winced, but then…

Well, Tony could just about count his ribs.

“What? Oh…” Loki trailed off, his own eyes going to the bandage. 

Tony quickly sat up, pushing back the wince and replacing it with a smile. “No, it’s not that. You’re just smokin’ hot, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Loki said. He blinked.

Tony swallowed.

_ “Oh,” _ Loki said, smiling slyly. He produced a shirt from somewhere and put it on, then leaned forward to press a kiss to Tony’s lips. “Hmm. That must be nice for you.”

Tony grinned.

()()()

Now that romance was an option, Tony was scheming. 

When Loki went to the bathroom, Tony used the opportunity to subtly text Jarvis. He smirked as he did so, feeling mischievous.

When Loki came back, Tony cleared his throat and put his feet up on the ottoman, taking a sip from his drink and patting the cushion next to him. Loki put a hand to his forehead, leaving Tony to wonder if facepalms were a thing in Asgard, but he sat down next to Tony regardless.

_ Right _ next to him.

And kissed him.

And holy shit, how was this his life? He was being kissed by an ex-supervillain (well, Loki had never really been a supervillain, had he?) and was on the fucking run from everyone but he had no regrets about it which was crazy and awesome and so,  _ so _ very Tony Stark.

He snorted into Loki’s neck.

“Stop!” Loki cried. He pulled away. “You sound like a bilgesnipe during mating season, and that is  _ not,” _ he continued, when Tony raised a suggestive eyebrow, “A good thing.”

Tony just growled and pulled him in for another kiss.

()()()

“Surprise?” he said, making it sound like a question, wringing his hands, wondering why he was so nervous, wondering if Loki would like it. Were the candles too much? Too old-fashioned? Too basic? Too tall? Or would he be disappointed that it wasn’t the same as Ye Olde Viking Dates of Yore…?

“Gods,” Loki said, glaring at him. “You’re practically hyperventilating. Gods, Tony, did you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“No…”

Loki glared at him again, only this time Tony swore he did it fondly. Also he was smiling, and he kissed him during it, which caused Tony’s brain to immediately short-circuit, as it did every time Loki kissed him because  _ Jesus Christ _ Loki - God of Mischief, wearer of antler-helmets, wielder of badassery - just kissed him!

“Sh… wow,” he said. “Candles? Do you like the, uh, the candles…?”

“The candles are wonderful,” Loki said. “It is all wonderful. Thank you.” He sat down, and after a moment of teetering awkwardly, Tony shuffled over and sat down across from him, elbows on the table, and messily poured himself a drink.

Wall-E trundled over, beeping nonsensically, with a plate balanced precariously on his… back? Tony had to reach over awkwardly to pick it up and set it on the table, and he winced, only just now realizing how badly he had planned all of this - oh he should have started out with all the food already on the table, why the  _ hell  _ didn’t he start out with all the food on the table?

“Here,” he said, depositing the plate in front of Loki. “It’s… um… food.”

Wall-E beeped.  _ Be more specific, dingus. _

_ “Fine,” _ Tony hissed at him, kicking him lightly in the… face? Which caused him to spin a full 360 and beep again, loudly and obnoxiously.

Loki leaned over to look at Wall-E. He smiled. “It is so  _ ugly _ , and yet so endearing.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Tony said. Wait. “Er… my thoughts exactly. Anyway, that’s mashed potatoes, and there’s turkey, and gravy, I guess… anyway, it’s meant to be Thanksgiving dinner. Even though it’s… not Thanksgiving? Because it occurred to me that you’ve probably never had Thanksgiving dinner and, anyway, cranberry sauce is way cheaper when it’s not Thanksgiving, although I’m a billionaire so I really don’t care about that, and, yeah, so, some pilgrims ate with some Indians back in the seventeen-hundreds, so now we eat turkey on the fourth Thursday of November.”

Loki raised both his eyebrows, looking mildly impressed. 

Wall-E returned with another plate, and while trying to pick it up, Tony accidentally banged the edge of it against the side of the table, getting stuffing and turkey all over himself.

“Sh… it.”

(Whyyyyyy)

But Tony only had a moment to be mortified before all the spilled food was levitating, quite creepily, and hurling itself out the window like a tiny row of bready kamikazes. He heard a series of tiny rustles as they landed in the grass.

Loki smirked at him.

And in the quiet, chew-filled minutes that followed, Loki proceeded to eat a drumstick, a fist-sized helping of mashed potatoes, a disgusting amount of cranberry sauce (more than half of the can) and a piece of stuffing the size of a fingernail, but that was fine because Tony didn’t like stuffing either, he just bought it in case Loki liked it.

Tony had also bought a pumpkin pie (he bought all of this stuff, he didn’t make any of it. Scrambled eggs were about the limit of his culinary expertise) and he cut them both a slice and Loki ate all of his (minus the crust), with a monstrous amount of whipped cream.

“Don’t bother hiding your face behind your hand. It is fairly obvious that you are grinning like an idiot,” Loki said, wiping his mouth daintily with his napkin.

“Sorry,” Tony said, schooling some blank-zombie-look into his features, because he couldn’t quite manage seriousness.

Loki waved his hand imperiously, like a prince. 

And when they were done eating, he stood up, raised his regal chin, and offered Tony his hand, helping him out of his seat.

“Why’re you--”

“You are the woman, I am the man,” Loki said, as if it were obvious. “We bow to each other.”

“Why would we ever…”

“It is how such a night would end in Asgard,” Loki said, with an another arm-wave. He proceeded to bow low to Tony, and Tony, with a sigh, bowed in turn.

“Now, you would say something along the lines of: ‘Thank you for this joy,  _ elskan.’” _

“Thank you for…  _ wait, _ why am  _ I _ the woman? I bought all the damn food! And  _ I’m _ the one with the beard!” Tony cried, indignantly swatting Loki’s hand away. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “If it matters  _ so _ much to you, then we can simply skip over this. I thought you would enjoy learning more about Asgardian culture - it’s very convoluted and distressing to most people, so I assumed it would interest you.”

And he gave Tony his best puppy-dog eyes.

They were  _ very _ convincing.

_ “Fine.  _ Thank you for the joy, estlarn.”

In one deft movement, Loki had Tony draped over his arm like they were dancing the tango. Although Tony suspected he looked much less graceful than any of those dancers, because he was about a flexible as a dried-out stick. He was also wheezing, and muttering “Holy shit,” in between wheezes.

“And to you as well,  _ elskan,” _ Loki said, leaning in for a kiss, and when he lifted Tony back up and pulled away, there was a rose in his hand. He handed it to Tony. 

And then a fucking two-foot long sword appeared in Tony’s other hand.  _ “What _ the hell is happening--” he fumbled, almost dropped it, caught it awkwardly.

“You give that to me,” Loki instructed. He held out his hand, and Tony reluctantly dumped the sword into it, glancing down at his wimpy little rose, which seemed pathetic by comparison, despite its beautiful color, and  _ wait _ did Loki just give him a rose?

Then, in another deft motion, Loki had used that sword to sweep all of the leftover food, including the plates  _ and _ the candles, off the table, where they landed with a mighty crash that caused Tony to yelp like a little girl.

“Tradition,” Loki said, with a shrug and a mischievous glint in his eye that let Tony to wonder if he had just made all of this up.

Probably.

“Wow,” he said.

Loki glanced down at his mess, smugly. It was a heap of broken glass, flaming napkins, bones, and several puddles of booze. Strangely, it looked kind of familiar.

Wall-E gave an irritated beep.

“Oh,  _ fine,” _ Loki said. With a wave of his hand, the mess had vanished.

“Where... did that go,” Tony said, disturbed.

“Pocket dimension.”

“Oh. Of course, yeah, because everyone knows that when you want to clean something up you  _ obviously  _ just Disapparate it off to your handy-dandy  _ pocket dimension.” _

Loki shrugged. He tossed the sword aside, and it landed with a clatter on the floor. “Why not?”

Fair enough.

Wall-E beeped in distress, and they both watched as he slid hesitantly forward, ran into the wall, and proceeded to turn in circles, spinning through the now blank section of floor.

“I think you broke him,” Tony said, wondering would it would be like to be a Roomba-shaped robot and have your entire worldview come crashing down on you.

Loki dropped to one knee, tapped the robot on his… something, and produced a flaming napkin in one hand. “Here, you may clean this,” he said, letting the napkin fall to the floor. 

Wall-E beeped so enthusiastically that Tony didn’t have the heart to yell at Loki for dropping a flaming napkin on his wood floor.

()()()

“It’s  _ cold,” _ Tony whined, wishing he’d brought a blanket.

“Hush,” Loki said, silencing him with a hand on his mouth, pointing up at the sky. “Stars.”

“I know.”

“Your sky is beautiful,” Loki said. “Ours is monotonous and much too blue, or much too black at night. I think I prefer this shade. And you can even see, faintly, I think, perhaps a branch of Yggdrasil?”

“A what?”

“It is the World Tree, and it supports the universe. See, that colorful trail of stars, like a ribbon, winding away into the distance?”

“That’s the Milky Way, Lokes.”

Loki just laughed at him.

And stiffened.

“What?” Tony cried, alarmed, putting a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

Loki was staring out beyond the doorway they were sitting in, out into the dark. He was shivering violently, and Tony couldn’t hear him breathing. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out.

“What?” he asked, again, quieter, looking into Loki’s eyes.

Loki blinked.

“I was wrong,” he said. “There is not a Chitauri there.”

It was Tony’s turn to stiffen.

Loki laughed. “Of course there isn’t. I’m sorry, it’s simply my mind playing tricks, I think. I must be wrong. I  _ am _ wrong. No need to worry.”

_ You sure about that? _

Tony swallowed. 

And fuck it, he said it. “Are you sure?”

Loki glanced at him sharply, irritably, “Of course I’m sure. It was a… a mistake. I thought I sensed something but I didn’t. You know,  _ seidr _ is not always reliable. It is not a tool, it isn’t exact, it is a part of me and  _ I _ am not always reliable, so… it makes sense that this would happen.”

Nevertheless…

“Wanna go inside?” Tony asked.

He saw Loki visibly relax, the stiffness going out of his shoulders. He nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and used Tony as an object to support all of his weight as he stood up, which caused Tony to make a sound somewhat like, “Hnngheoww.” But Loki didn’t even glance at him until he had slipped back through the door, and even then, it was a skittish glance, like the kind of glance a mouse might give a dead cat. Or something.

“It’s okay,” Tony said, closing the door. It locked automatically. “There’s security.  _ So _ much security. I went a little overboard. But suffice to say,  _ nothing _ is getting in unless I want it to get in.”

“All right,” Loki said, sounding like he believed him.

()()()

The Chitauri attacked the next morning.

Tony was jolted out of his nightmare by the sound of shattering glass. He somehow managed to bypass the usual early-morning grogginess and sit up almost instantly with his hands already up in a defensive position. 

Loki was standing, with knives in his hands. He was whirling around and throwing them, and they flew like bullets, straight into the throats and stomachs and groins of these horribly familiar insectoid aliens which were snarling and flinging mandibles around at top speed. 

The noise was hideous and the view was worse, but Tony stood up and called for his suit, prepared to lunge straight into the thick of it. 

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, which pulled him away none too gently. He was just about to lash out and punch the Chitauri that had grabbed him when he realized that it wasn’t a Chitauri, it was  _ Loki. _

He gaped at him, looking back and forth between the two Loki’s, before he finally settled on staring at the one who was hissing, “That one’s a copy; come with me,” in his ear.

Loki pushed him down as some kind of blast flashed through the air, exploding something with a boom that made Tony want to duck down and hide, or jump up and attack something, but instead they crawled through the chaos. Strangely enough, none of the Chitauri seemed to be attacking them, they were only focusing on the other Loki, who had been joined by two  _ other _ , other Loki’s. They were punching and kicking and hurling daggers viciously. A Chitauri slumped to the floor, gargling blood.

The real Loki growled when one of the other Loki’s got shot, and he seemed to be slowing down, weakening, and Tony was just about to start to panic about that when a hunk of metal flew through the air and attached itself to his hand.

He whirled around and blasted one of the Chitauri to oblivion.

And another, and another, and he let out a cry of pure delight, which caused Loki to stare at him oddly. 

The rest of his suit joined the hand, and he was encased in the most beautiful metal to ever exist, jumping to his feet. Loki, the real Loki, joined him, and they twisted and spun around each other like a duo in an action movie, back to back, turning in circles. 

In another few moments, the remaining Chitauri were dead.

“Nice,” Tony said, stepping out of his suit.

Loki waved a hand, and the three fake Loki’s disappeared.

The living room was a catastrophe.

Firstly, it wasn’t exactly recognizable. One of the walls was practically gone. The floor looked like someone had hacked apart a boulder and deposited it in the center of the carpet, which was no longer visible. Secondly, at least a dozen dead Chitauri were slumped over the torn apart furniture, and the poor couch that they had slept on together for so many nights. Strangely, the sight of that ruined couch made Tony sad, even though he wasn’t one for getting attached to furniture.

Wall-E rolled into the room, paused, beeped, and proceeded to suck up a single, penny-sized piece of rubble.

“No need to even attempt it,” Loki said to Wall-E, sounding sympathetic. He nudged the robot with his foot. “I doubt we’ll be staying here much longer. I  _ am _ sorry, Tony. It appears that your number of functional safe houses is being rapidly depleted because of me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tony said, gaping at the destruction. “I’ve got… some left, I’m sure. It’s cool.”

Wall-E beeped, and after a series of robotic motions, he had gone from his Roomba form into his crab form. He was now box-shaped, and sporting a nifty pair of pincers. Loki and Tony both watched as he rolled slowly over to the futon, retrieved the blanket that was lying on it, and carried it over to them.

Loki knelt down and took it from him, patting him on the pincer for good measure, and wrapped Tony up in the blanket because - “Are you in shock? I think you might be in shock.”

“No…” Tony managed to say, staring at the shattered window.

**Sir, intruders approaching at… out of… collision imminent, sir, I would advise that you move away from the window.**

“ _ There _ you are, Jarvis, what the hell happened to you?” Tony demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at nothing.

**I am detecting several alien presences, sir, resembling those of the Chitauri, although they seem to be masked, I cannot… sir, there has been a security breach of the safe house, I would recommend exiting the premises immediately.**

“Yeah, yeah we got that particular memo, thanks, J.”

Jarvis proceeded to relay everything that had happened in the past minute or so, all while glitching horribly, which put Tony on edge because when he built an AI, it did  _ not _ glitch. 

“Someone hacked Jarvis,” he said. “Someone hacked… someone hacked  _ Jarvis.” _

**Sir, it appears that you may be in shock.**

“Good, you’ve caught up,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

Loki put his hand on his back. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Tony waved a hand. “I’m sure I’m not in shock. I’m thinking totally clearly. It was just unexpected, you know, to have aliens come bursting through my window while I’m asleep. I kind of wasn’t expecting that. It wasn’t… expected.”

“Then we should go.”

“Already?”

“Yes,” Loki sounded worried, even scared, so Tony pulled him in under the blanket, because hey, it actually did help, weirdly enough. “Thanos has found us. I think this was a test of some kind, to see how strong we are. But he will come with more force next time. I imagine he wants to kill both of us. Perhaps use us to get to the Avengers, so he can achieve his original plan of conquering Midgard.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“We should  _ go.” _

“Okay, okay.” Tony kissed Loki once before stepping back into his suit.

He turned back around just in time to see Loki wave his hand, and to see Wall-E vanish, most likely into Loki’s pocket dimension. Tony smirked, which was totally uncalled for given the current situation, and was he actually in shock? He couldn’t tell, because he had never been in shock before, but it did seem that the gravity of the current situation hadn’t sunken in yet.

“Anything else you want to bring?” he asked, surveying the destruction once again. He glanced mournfully at his phone, which was sitting innocently on the table, before marching over to it and smashing it to pieces with an iron fist. It would be safer to buy a new one. He should have done that a long time ago.

Loki shook his head. Then nodded. He winked out of existence, and when he reappeared, he was holding an armful of folded up clothes, and the mug Tony had made for him in his other hand. He looked down at it, then back up at Tony. “I think this is all.” The stuff he was carrying disappeared, too, and Tony thought briefly of Wall-E and Loki’s things floating around in the dark somewhere.

“Okay,” he said, stepping behind Loki and hugging him close. “Let’s go.”

()()()

They didn’t go to a safe house this time.

Instead, as they flew, Tony said, “We should buy a hotel room, I guess. Where do you wanna live? Probably somewhere in the States - sorry that we won’t get to go somewhere more exotic - because there’s not much juice left in this thing… And I prefer the good ‘ol U.S., where everyone speaks English.”

“You will have to choose,” Loki said, his face scrunched up in concentration as he focused on keeping them invisible. “I do not know much about Midgardian geography.”

Fair enough.

Beneath them, the Mexican coastline trailed away into the distance. Sunlight sparkled off the waves. He curved inland and swooped low over the trees, before landing in the center of a forest, behind a small neighborhood.

That was where he killed Jarvis.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said, fiddling around in the suit’s helmet with a screwdriver (he kept tools in the backplate of every suit, just in case he had to do repairs). “But I  _ am _ sorry, J.”

**Sir, if you continue at this rate, there is a danger that I may no longer be able to assist you in the piloting of this suit.**

“Yeah. I know, bud,” Tony said. “Sheesh, did I program you with a tendency to always state the obvious?”

Loki sat beside him, an arm around his shoulders. 

“Hngh,” Tony said, around a screw that he had put in his mouth. “Mm gettin’ close. Jus’ a lil’ more... um…”

Done.

Well, perhaps ‘kill’ was an exaggeration. Jarvis wouldn’t function in this particular suit, that was all. It would be a major inconvenience, of course, but he wouldn’t be dead. Not really.

Tony would have killed him if he could. He would have removed Jarvis from the tower, and every safe house. But he didn’t have the tech with him to do that right now. Maybe later.

Tony patted the helmet on the top of its head, and put it back on.

He flew them to Kansas.

“No one will suspect Kansas,” he said. “Because everyone knows that I hate it almost as much as I hate Minnesota. I mean, look at it! Did they run out of  _ variety- _ juice at the place-making place?”

Loki just trotted after him, looking faintly amused as he listened to him rant. Tony had taken off his suit, which was a horribly long process now because he had to remove each section himself, and put it into Loki’s pocket dimension. Because, y’know, now when he wanted to put something somewhere, he could just toss it into Loki’s pocket dimension.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around that.

He bought them a hotel room in a random city that he had never heard of before and had never wanted to hear of. It was drab and dull and had puke-green walls and there were two bedrooms but as if by some unspoken agreement, they both collapsed into the larger bed, sweaty and gross and probably both still in shock.

“Is it safe here?” Loki asked. “They won’t find us?”

Tony grabbed his hand, and when that wasn’t nearly enough, he pulled him close and kissed him. “I can’t promise anything,” he said. 

Loki sat up, suddenly, one hand pressed to his lips. “We will have to fight. We will  _ have _ to. We cannot let Thanos win. He would destroy all of Midgard if he thought it would hurt me, but he has his own reasons, too. Revenge on you and your friends. Eliminating that threat so he can carry out his future plans.”

‘Friends’ was a strong word.

And ‘future plans’ were two very unsettling ones.

“What should we do, then?” Tony asked.

“Honestly,” Loki said, turning to stare right at him. “I think we will have to assemble the Avengers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one thing I'm worried is that the scene where Tony finally did see Loki without a glamour felt too anticlimactic? I didn't really have a good plan for that and you all seemed to really want to see it (and I basically forgot to do it) so I put it in here but my excuse is that 1 Tony's already seen Loki looking pretty starved earlier lol and 2 it's a good show of trust that he willingly let Tony see him without a glamour and Tony's response to that was to not draw attention to it which... was probably a pretty good response.   
> Anyway the Frost Giant reveal part will be longer and will actually make sense in the context of the chapter... hopefully... lol sorry about that, anyway. It was kind of a last-minute change.  
> Thanks for reading!! :D


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to get posted! Life's been pretty stressful for me lately but that's no excuse; I have the whole story already written so it shouldn't have taken me so long. It's here now though! Hopefully some of you guys are still reading and enjoying this story lol.

He hadn’t decided to fight.

He had known, simply  _ known,  _ the instant that the first Chitauri smashed through the living room window, that he would not give up until each and every last one of them were dead, until that scourge upon the Nine Realms had been wiped away.

But revenge was not the only thing anymore.

He also needed to protect Tony.

Thanos had come into his home, had threatened to take something that was  _ his, _ and his alone. 

And if asking the Avengers for help was what it would take to defeat him, then he would. He would do  _ whatever _ it took.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, eyes wide, sitting up to place his hand on Loki’s cheek, to lean in close and look into his eyes. “They hate you.”

_ Yes, yes, I am more sure about this than I have ever been about anything in my entire life. _

_ Don’t you know that I would go to the ends of the universe if that was what it took to protect you? _

“I am,” Loki said. “I am  _ sure.” _

He almost got caught up in the moment, almost let loose a stream of magic, almost let it rush, let it soar around the room - but he didn’t because, although he would implore the help of the Avengers if he had to, he wanted nothing to do with SHIELD. A pocket dimension was one thing. He was sure that they couldn’t track that. But using any magic beyond that was still dangerous.

He would eventually, of course, but not now. Not  _ yet. _

“Then I am too,” Tony said, kissing him.

And that, in itself, was its own kind of magic.

()()()

There would be a danger, of course. Loki could be captured or killed.  _ Tony _ could be captured, or killed (as slim a chance as it was, because Loki would give his life before he allowed that, it was still a possibility).

And Loki had seen the way that Tony looked at him.

So when the sun rose, and Tony stirred beside him (they were sleeping without any space in between, even though the bed was large enough to easily accommodate both of them), Loki swallowed and ran a hand down Tony’s chest.

Because if he was going to do this, he should do it now. If he waited, it might be too late.

“Hmm..?” Tony opened bleary eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m all right,” Loki said, trying to keep the bitterness out of voice. There had been a time when such questions would not have had to be asked. When there would have been no chance that he would ever have given ‘no’ for an answer, no chance that he would ever have revealed any weakness.

No need to dwell on such things.

If he was going to go through with this, then this occasion should be  _ happy. _

He kissed Tony on the neck, and his heart swelled painfully in his chest. “I’d like to try something,” he murmured. 

“Loki…” Tony trailed off. “Loki, you don’t have to. We can just sleep…”

“I want to,” Loki said, and he did, but even now he knew how this would end because his hands had started shaking, that anxiety was rising up, that dread overwhelming him. Why, why,  _ why _ did this always have to happen? He just wanted to make Tony feel good. That was all he wanted.

He wanted to do this.

But just the thought was terrifying him. Just the thought. They hadn’t even  _ done _ anything yet. They were still both fully clothed, and all Loki had done was kiss him - he shouldn’t be reacting in this way. What was  _ wrong _ with him?

He used to have lovers (mostly men), and he could remember many a glorious night spent with them, caught up in that dizzying bliss of pleasure, of giving all of oneself over to someone else. (It was intoxicating.)

His family had always frowned on it, as they frowned upon everything he did. He could remember arguments with Thor, his false-brother telling him that he was making himself into a woman, an  _ argr, _ degrading himself, but he never cared because it was fun and it made him happy, and it made others happy too.

And now he was here, with the man he loved more,  _ so much more _ , than any of those others, and he couldn’t do it.

_ He just wanted to make Tony  _ happy. 

There was a lump in his throat and it wouldn’t go away. There were tears in his eyes and they burned hot and…

“Oh, Lokes, I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki buried his face in Tony’s chest and cried until he fell asleep in Tony’s arms.

()()()

They checked out of the hotel an hour later.

“Stark tower?” Tony suggested.

They were sitting on the curb, watching cars drive by. Loki was leaning heavily against Tony, sniffing, blinking through still-watering eyes.

“Thanos will not wait long to attack,” Loki murmured. “It would be better to go to them now. Or as soon as we can.”

“But should we go to Stark tower? Or we could plan a kind of rendezvous. Go to the ones we - well, I - trust the most, first. Probably… well, I was gonna say Bruce, but actually that’s not such a good idea. Rhodey? I mean, he’s probably the lamest of the bunch, but I do trust him. I’d have to see Pepper, too. And Happy’ll be mad if I don’t include him,” Tony laughed vaguely. “Oh, I can see the look on his face.”

“You miss your friends.”

“Yeah, I do. But I’d rather be with you, you know,” Tony said.

Loki sniffled again.

Yes, yes, sure, he was being weak, still crying like this, but quite frankly, he didn’t give a damn at the moment.

“Steve thinks I’m evil,” Tony said, bitterly. “Clint and Natasha probably do too. I never really clicked with any of them. But I do think that maybe, if we go about it carefully, Bruce could be on our side. Especially once he knows that you weren’t in control during New York. Actually, I think most of them would be with us if they knew that. Maybe not Clint, but all he does is shoot arrows, so it won’t be much of a loss.”

Loki laughed weakly, picking at the collar of Tony’s shirt.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked.

Loki swallowed. 

Shook himself.

And straightened, sitting up.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay,” he said, finally forcing himself to focus on the conversation. Now was not the time to wallow in his self-pity or self-hatred or whatever was going on in his head. 

They had to think of a plan.

()()()

They ended up flying to Washington.

Tony complained the whole time about how dysfunctional the suit was now, and Loki just closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind against his face, trying not to think about what they were about to do.

And once he was safely within the walls of yet another of Tony’s safe houses, where his technology would keep SHIELD from tracking his magic, Loki closed his eyes again, and called for Thor.

Through the Void, and across all of the Nine Realms. Wherever Thor was, he would hear.

Loki hadn’t used this for years upon years. He never thought that he would call for Thor again. Definitely not after what Thanos had done.

But within minutes there was the telltale boom of thunder, and the crack of lightning splitting the sky. Loki swallowed and stepped in close to Tony, fumbling for his hand. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. 

And Thor landed outside in an electric flash of light. His hammer scraped against the concrete as he stood up. 

“Nice, you figured out how to use a door,” Tony said, as Thor stepped inside.

“Loki!” he cried. “Are you all right?”

However, he seemed to have learned, because he didn’t come any closer, instead standing awkwardly and eyeing Loki and Tony’s joined hands. 

“I am well,” Loki said. “But we have need of you. The Chitauri have attacked us, and I fear for the fate of all the Nine Realms should we fail to act.”

Tony murmured, “Nicely said, Shakespeare,” under his breath, and it was all Loki could do not to smile.

Thor’s grip tightened on his hammer, and he raised his chin to look at them solemnly. “What would you have me do?” 

()()()

They decided that it would be Banner first.

Tony would call him. “He’s one of my best friends,” Tony had said, when he put out the idea. “I think he’ll listen to me.”

Loki wasn’t so sure, but it was worth a try. After all, if the Chitauri were here, everyone was in danger and they didn’t have time to waste.

If Tony got Banner to agree to a rendezvous, then they would meet - although Loki would remain invisible, there just in case Banner got any bright ideas about attacking Tony.

And yeah, the thought of being anywhere near Banner scared him to death, because he had watched himself on the video, had watched the Hulk sling him back and forth as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes and he remembered looking at his back and seeing those colorful bruises. Wondering where they came from…

But a  _ flash _ of memory - of a  _ roar, _ of so much noise, and concrete hurtling towards his face -  _ crack -  _ blackness, brightness, light and dark and everything spinning until he didn’t know where he was.

He shivered, and Tony noticed immediately, squeezing his hand, pulling him close to his side.

Thor stared at their hands again.

"Oh, leave it, Thor. Surely there are more important things to be focusing on," Loki said.

"I... do not gather your meaning, Loki," Thor said, unconvincingly, shifting his hammer from his left hand to his right.

Loki scoffed. "We are on the brink of battle, and yet all you can focus on is my relationship with Stark. Very well, if it would put your wandering thoughts at ease -" he turned Tony's head gently to the side and kissed him on the lips.

"Hngh!" Tony grunted, surprised, before seeming to melt against him, kissing back eagerly.

They had begun to implement their tongues in recent days.

It was wonderful.

Loki pulled away from Tony with a sound like an octopus being pulled off of the side of a ship - a gross, watery squelch - and looked at Thor with a raised eyebrow.

"You are... together?" Thor asked, hesitantly, looking very awkward and very unsure of what to do with himself, his bulky presence filling up nearly the whole room (this safe house was much smaller than the others had been, and much less impressive).

"Would you say so,  _ elskan _ ?" Loki asked, turning back to Tony.

"I think so, erklsan," Tony said, hacking at the word with an axe. "Would explain the disgusting amount of kissing." He stood on tiptoe to whisper in Loki's ear. "What does erkastan mean anyway?"

_ "Elskan _ ," Loki corrected. "And it means something like... oh... darling, dear. Beloved, perhaps."

"Oh," Tony said, sinking back down onto his heels, with a surprised, but happy smile on his face.

"Anyhow, now that we have that is out of the way," he said, waving his other hand through the air in a slicing motion. "When will you be making that call?”

"Um. Probably right now would be the best time," Tony said. "Cause, y'know, imminent threats of slow, painful destruction, and all that. No time to waste."

All Thor seemed capable of doing was staring at them.

"Well then," Loki said, baring his teeth at Thor in a smile/grimace guaranteed to put anyone on edge. "Get going," he slapped Tony on the back.

()()()

They used a payphone, which had Thor fiddling with the buttons, looking very confused, until Tony cleared his throat and tried to push him aside, but the booth was too small and they just ended up all squished against each other.

Loki laughed at them.

When they finally got untangled, Tony picked up the phone, looking quite nervous.

“He might have changed his number. I think - I think I should make sure that I have the right…”

“Just call,” Loki said.

“But he’s probably at work, he probably can’t answer right now…”

“Quit stalling. The Chitauri will not wait for you to work up the courage.”

_ “Fine,” _ Tony snapped. He poking the dial buttons angrily, yanked the phone up to his ear. 

Loki squeezed into the phonebooth, inching close to Tony so he could hear.

_ “Hello?” _

Tony swallowed. “Er… Hey Bruce, this is… this is Tony.”

A pause.

_ “Is this some kind of joke?” _ Banner demanded, sounding angry. 

“No, no, no, it’s really me…” wordlessly, Loki snaked an arm around his shoulders, giving him something to lean on. “I really need to talk to you, Big Guy. It’s important.”

Another, longer pause.

_ “Holy shit. You’re alive? Where are you? Are you okay? What happened?” _

“The Chitauri are on earth again. I think they might be planning to wage another war, maybe even destroy the planet or something,” Tony said, ignoring all of his other questions. “I need you.”

_ “But Tony - Tony, what the hell is going on? You’ve been missing for almost a month, I… we all looked for you, tried to find you,  _ everyone _ tried to find you, and then you were in Minnesota and then you were in… in Mexico, and...” _

“I’ll tell you everything. Just in person, okay?”

_ “What? No! Loki… we thought Loki was controlling you. I can’t trust you…”  _ Banner sounded miserable.  _ “Just tell me what happened to you.” _

“I’m not being controlled,” Tony said. “I’ll swear on… on my mom, on the bottles of booze in the door of my fucking fridge, on  _ Yinsen, _ on anything you fucking want me to swear on.”

Another pause.

Loki ran a hand through Tony’s hair.

They heard a sigh from the other end.

_ “On Yinsen?” _

Tony glanced at Loki before saying, “Yeah, yeah I’m not being controlled. I swear.”

_ “Then where the hell have you been all this time?” _

“Like you said. Minnesota, Mexico. Montreal.” Tony moved the phone aside to whisper in Loki’s ear, “Did I seriously only build safe houses that start with ‘M’?” Then he picked up the phone again. “All over the place. Hiding from, well, from everyone, basically.”

_ “With Loki?” _

Tony glanced at Loki.

Loki simply raised an eyebrow, trusting him to answer in whatever way he thought was best.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve been with Loki.”

_ “And you’re expecting me to believe that he’s not forcing you to do this? To - to what, live in the same house with him for a month? Break him out of SHIELD? Twice? And now, to trick me into meeting with you so he can kill me?” _

Loki rested his cheek on the top of Tony’s head, taking his hand and rubbing circles over his knuckles with his thumb. Tony sighed softly in response, leaning into the touch.

_ “Talk.” _

“Okay…” Tony trailed off, glancing at Loki. Loki waved a hand for him to go on, keeping his eyes on Thor, wondering what his reaction would be when Tony began to speak.

But, luckily, Tony didn’t go into much detail.

Just, “Do you remember when I went into the cell to take the green thing away from him? Yeah, well, he was pretty beat up, and he had a really bad reaction when I tried to touch him, and I could tell that he wasn’t in the best mindset at the moment and I couldn’t just  _ leave _ him there…”

_ “Okay,”  _ was how Banner replied.

But that was when Tony started rambling, probably worried that Banner still didn’t believe him, going on about how, “I was pretty sure he’d been tortured and, well, turns out I was right, and I  _ had _ to help him, you know - SHIELD was going to execute him the next morning!”

_ “Tortured?” _

“So I broke him out of there and I took him to my safe house, and there’s no way he could have used his voodoo powers on me because he didn’t even have magic. And he wasn’t doing… very well, but I helped him and I… god, Bruce, I don’t know how to make you believe me but I  _ swear _ I’m telling the truth…”

_ “Hey, shut up, you idiot.” _

Tony shut up, chest heaving, eyes watering and red.

_ “You honestly think all of this is true. That someone tortured him? And  _ that’s _ why you helped him?” _

“Um… yes?”

_ “I’d call you a liar if I didn’t know that this is exactly the sort of thing that you would do.”  _ Banner laughed shakily.  _ “But, I mean, he’s not dangerous, right? Tony?” _

“No. No! He’s not… he would never hurt me,” Tony’s voice came out hoarse, as if there was a lump in his throat. He squeezed Loki’s hand. “And I would… I would never hurt him.”

Banner paused for a very long time.

_ “You’re sure about this?” _

“I’m never been more certain about anything in my life.”

_ “Tony.” _

“On Yinsen. I told you. I’ll swear on him or on anything that matters to me.”

_ “Oh god… Tony.” _

It went very quiet. All Loki could hear was Tony’s shallow breathing, Thor shifting his weight awkwardly from side to side, and his own beating heart.

_ “Okay. You know what? Okay. We can meet in person. What’s the harm, anyway? What’s the fucking harm? But if you’re lying to me, I’ll murder you and then I’ll skin him, okay?” _

“Okay!” Tony cried, gripping the phone very tightly. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back against the side of the booth with a deep exhale of relief. “Okay.”

_ “Good, glad we’re on the same page. Although I really don’t think you’re lying to me, because I can tell when you’re lying.” _

“Yeah, I know!” Tony cried, his voice going a little raspy.. “Do you remember the stethoscope?”

_ “Of course I remember the stethoscope. I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know.” _

“Yeah but I made such a good replica. Even better than the original one.”

_ “Except it didn’t  _ do _ anything. And it wasn’t lucky.” _

“No one  _ has _ a lucky stethoscope.”

_ “ _ I _ had a lucky stethoscope!” _

“You had a lie. I was doing you a favor by accidentally stepping on it.”

_ “You would say that, wouldn’t you.” _

And then Tony started to laugh, the kind of laugh that someone laughs when they are dangerously close to bursting into tears, covering his face with his hands and turning his face into Loki’s chest. “I missed you, Brucie,” he said.

_ “Oh, I missed you too, Tones… Don’t cry, though, we’ll see each other soon.” _

Tony let out a hiccup/sob, and Loki kissed him on the forehead.

(Thor had gone outside, and was sitting on the curb, polishing his hammer.)

_ “You remember that old DQ we always used to go to? The one with the view of the… of the sewer sludge? The one where the whole place smelled kind of like shit?” _

“Yeah, of course,” Tony said, wiping at his eyes.

_ “Go there. Okay? Alone, just me and you, we’ll have a heart to heart over ice cream. Twenty minutes. Okay?” _

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Tony said, sniffling a little. “I  _ missed _ you, buddy.”

Banner laughed.  _ “I’m flattered, I really am.” _

“No, I’m serious! I’m a mess over this, if you couldn’t tell - I’m practically bawling my eyes out… it’ll be  _ so _ good to see you again… you’re one of my best friends...”

_ “Only one of them?” _

Tony hiccupped/laughed. “A really, really good one.”

_ “Well, for the record, I missed you too.” _

Tony laughed shakily.

_ “See you soon, Tony.” _

“See you.”

Tony put the phone back, and then buried his face in Loki’s chest. “Aww, shit,” he said. “I’m having a full fucking meltdown, aren’t I?”

Loki didn’t hesitate. “Yes, you are.”

“Wow, you know there’s brutally honest, and then there’s just mega shit-balls fucking slug-me-in-the-face honest… I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s fine. After all, I had a breakdown last night and got snot all over your shirt, so it is only fair that you get a turn, too.”

“Ha ha.”

“But you should probably pull yourself together shortly. Thor is staring at us.”

“Ughhhh,” Tony groaned, lifting his head only to glance at Thor and then drop it back down onto Loki’s chest. “I don’t care what Thor thinks. He’s weird. And he’s a Viking. He can go chuck his hammer around if he doesn’t like it. Maybe go axe a couple of rabbits in the woods.”

Then Tony lifted his head again, eyes wide. “You know that you’re still my favorite, right? I mean, Bruce is one of my best friends, but you’re my best, best friend, and also I don’t kiss Bruce, so you don’t have to worry about… about me forgetting about you, or anything.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Loki to be jealous of Tony’s relationship with Banner. “I am not worried,” he said. “You have made it apparent that you seem to like me, and so I believe you. Besides, I doubt you could ever forget how amazing I am.”

He said it jokingly, but Tony nodded seriously, and said, “Yeah, you’re right. I couldn’t forget that. You’re pretty badass.”

“Hmm,” was how Loki replied, kissing Tony on the lips. “We should go now. Banner will be waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm very sorry for how shit I've been at updating lately. There's really no excuse, just me being a fuck-up. My attention is mostly on my other stories at this point but there's no reason I can't post the rest of what I've written for this one! So, anyway, after a totally unacceptable two week gap, here's the next chapter!

Thor dropped them off a few blocks from the Dairy Queen. Tony didn’t bring his suit, but he did allow Loki to lurk outside of the restaurant, watching invisibly through the window, just in case the rage monster decided to make an appearance (also, Loki was there to cast a glamour over him - one that Bruce would be able to see through, but no one else would).

So with a goodbye kiss (which must have looked really weird because Loki was invisible to everyone but him), he was walking through the door, and he was gasping involuntarily when he saw his old Science Bro sitting at a booth in the corner, in his standard Purple Brucie Button-Up and the standard Brucie Brown Blazer, glasses resting on the table and two chocolate dipped cones on the table in front of him.

Bruce looked up from his phone when he saw him, and smiled, gesturing for Tony to come closer.

Tony sat down across from him and promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, shit man,” Bruce said (did he always use to swear this much?) awkwardly scooting around the table to sit next to Tony, patting him on the back. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Tony tried to say something, but only succeeded in blubbering all over his hands. Then he sneezed, getting them all snotty. Then he wiped them on his shirt. Then he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I think I need a napkin,” he said.

Bruce smiled, handed him one, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Just be quiet. There are cameras, and SHIELD is always after me.”

“Urghh…” Tony said.

Bruce sighed, touching him tentatively on the shoulder. “So… how about you start by giving me a rundown of the past month? Once you’re done drooling, that is.”

“I’m not…” Tony cut off when he pressed a hand to his lips. He snorted, which caused more snot go everywhere, and a couple more tears leaked out of his eyes for good measure.

“Take your time.”

Tony wiped at his face furiously with the napkin. Wordlessly, Bruce handed him another one, and he kept wiping until all the various bodily fluids were gone from his face. 

“Okay, I think I’m good now. Thanks for all your help,” Tony said, sarcastically, pressing the soiled napkins into Bruce’s hands.

Bruce made a noise like a strangled hippo, flinging the napkins away like they were on fire, which was ironic considering he was a doctor and had likely dealt with plenty of snot in his life. “You really haven’t changed, have you?” he asked, wiping his hand on the table.

Tony hummed noncommittally, fiddling with his sleeve. Then he reached for one of the ice cream cones, and licked away all the melty-droppy parts, and after he was done with that he took a huge bite off the top and gave himself brain freeze.

“You done?” Bruce asked, looking amused but also impatient at the same time, somehow.

Tony nodded, set the ice cream cone down, and took a deep breath.

“I already told you most of it,” he began quietly. “Loki had been tortured, and, well, I could tell that he had been tortured, and I knew no one else was going to give a damn about what had happened to him, so I had to save him.” He shrugged. “And he didn’t have his magic. Fury confirmed it. So there’s no way he could have been fucking with my head.”

Bruce nodded his assent. Then shook his head. “Unless he was using magic to trick us into thinking he was without his magic…”

“Okay, shut up,” Tony said, dead-serious. “I know what I saw. He was fucking terrified. He was  _ not _ tricking us. He had  _ not _ tricked me. Okay? If you don’t believe me… well, I… I know what I saw, Bruce. I trust my eyes. He was shaking and flinching when I touched him and practically hyperventilating… couldn’t you tell?”

Bruce looked down at his hands. “Maybe, but I guess I didn’t really think about it, if I did see anything. I barely even looked at him…”

Tony chewed on one of his fingernails. “That’s okay. I guess it’s different, because I kind of… know what it feels like. In a way,” he corrected, when Bruce glanced up at him, looking alarmed. “He had it way worse. No that that’s - I mean… I just tried to make it better and utterly failed, didn’t I?”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat anything just to make me feel better.”

“Yeah.” Tony stared out the window at the sewer sludge, his eyes unfocused. “Yeah. Anyway.”

He took another deep breath.

“That first day, I said something - about how I wasn’t going to hurt him, or something, I’m not sure - and it sent him into a really bad panic attack,” Tony swallowed, keeping his gaze fixed on the window. “So I had to drug him in order to access his injuries.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if it’s too hard.”

“But I do. I do have to tell you. You won’t get it otherwise,” Tony said. 

Outside, the sewage moved like molasses. But in Tony’s mind, Loki was lying there on that hospital bed, looking like a corpse, blood on the sheets and all over his body, blood, so much blood that Tony could barely see the sickly green bruises, barely see all the cuts and the whip marks and…

He dropped his face into his hands, heaved a shaking breath. 

“It was terrible,” he said.

And it was even worse  _ now _ to think back to what Loki had looked like then, because now he cared, because now he couldn’t bear the thought of Loki being hurt, couldn’t bear the thought that it was too late and he already  _ had _ been hurt. So hurt. They hurt him  _ so much. _

And he didn’t deserve it.

No one deserved that kind of pain, but especially not him. He deserved to be  _ happy. _

(But it was too late for that, wasn’t it? He had never been very happy, had he? Was he even happy now?)

“It was terrible,” Tony said, again. “It was awful. He looked like he was dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

_ No, you aren’t, not yet. But you will be.  _

Tony straightened, clenching his hands into fists. “And he was bruised, all over. His ankle was sprained, but he had been walking on it with barely a limp as if it didn’t even matter. He had so many cuts, deep ones, as if they had stuck knives in him - they probably  _ did.” _ Again, Tony was struck by how little he actually knew of what they had done to Loki. “They used a whip on him, too, his back was a fucking mess, there was  _ so much blood…” _ and now Tony was getting angry - how  _ dare _ they do this to Loki? To  _ his _ Loki? - and he hoped Bruce could tell, he hoped Bruce could tell just how much this meant to him.

But his anger propelled him onward, even though he probably should have stopped talking then.

“And apparently there’s a whole race of aliens who aren’t fucking  _ disgusted _ by rape, because he’d been…” Tony laughed a laugh so entirely devoid of mirth that it might as well have been a scream. “Oh, he’d been raped,  _ brutally _ raped. But if the physical trauma wasn’t enough proof, all I had to do was look as his chest because they had  _ burned _ the word ‘whore’ into it.”

He heard Bruce inhale sharply, but didn’t look at him, because he was too busy slamming his fist down onto the table.

“It was  _ fucked up. _ No, it  _ is _ fucked up. And I will not rest until every last Chitauri, and their asshole leader, is dead for what they did to him, because he didn’t fucking deserve that.”

Tony slumped back in his chair, chest heaving, itching to punch something, but without anything to punch. So he just seethed.

Bruce was silent. Tony hoped he was contemplating this. And he had  _ better _ come to his senses and agree, or Tony was going to strangle him.

Not even joking.

And, oh, his chest was still heaving.

Because he couldn’t get that fucking image of Loki lying there out of his head, not to mention the nightmares were resurfacing - fuck, there was so much blood,  _ how _ could there be so much blood? - and he glanced automatically towards the doorway, towards where he knew Loki was, but didn’t see him.

What if the Chitauri had attacked him again?

What if  _ Thanos _ was back and was beating him or raping him or  _ killing _ him and Tony was having a nice fucking chitchat with his friend while Loki was being murdered?

Tony let out something between a whine and a sob, trying to get his breathing back under control so he could go check and make sure that Loki was okay.

“Breathe, Tony,” Bruce said, in that calm tone that Tony used to appreciate but now despised because  _ how _ could Bruce be calm when Loki could be in danger and…

Then Loki was in the restaurant, walking towards him, with a finger to his lips and the deepest kind of concern in his eyes. He reached over and touched Tony lightly on the arm. A wave of magic swelled up in him like a wave, made him shudder, washed away all the blood and fear and replaced it with warmth and wind and  _ Loki, Loki, Loki. _

Tony breathed in and out. Shakily, but at least he could breathe now. And now that he could breathe, he wanted nothing more than to jump up and wrap Loki up in a hug, or kiss him, or  _ something, _ anything more than that small touch on the shoulder.

He managed to distract himself by focusing on Bruce, who was watching him worriedly, oblivious to Loki’s presence, asking, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Loki started to walk away, feeling his heart sink. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“I’m sorry. I really am sorry, because I can tell how much this - how much  _ he _ means to you. Somehow. Doesn’t he?”

“Yes he does,” Tony said. “Yes, he does. He means…”  _ he means the world to me. He means everything and I don’t think I could live without him because I… _

Tony buried his face in his hands.

“This is crazy,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m getting from all of this, too. I understand breaking the guy out of SHIELD because you feel bad for him, but staying with him for a month… and starting to genuinely care about him? You do know that he killed a shit ton of people, right?”

“He…”  _ didn’t want to kill them. But even if he had, I wouldn’t care anymore. _

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said. “But he’s different. I… should probably tell you.”

Which was how he ended up telling Bruce about the memory lapses, about how he hadn’t actually  _ remembered _ New York, had only known what he had done because he had had his own misdeeds read to him at a joke of a trial where they didn’t allow him to  _ speak. _

“It’s fucked up,” he said, rubbing at his eyes in a vain attempt to scare the oncoming tears away. “It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up. He didn’t deserve that.”

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder.

He told Bruce about the conclusion they had both drawn - that Thanos had wiped his memory of the fight, and that memory wipe was the reason Loki kept forgetting things. It had gone wrong, perhaps, or maybe Thanos had  _ intended _ for this to happen. Either way, it was… “Fucked up,” he said, again, sighing deeply, wishing Loki would come back.

“And… I’m sorry, but… do you have proof that this wasn’t all some,” Bruce waved a hand through the air, “Trick to get you to trust him?”

“By then, I already trusted him!” Tony burst out. 

Probably too loudly, because a few other people looked up from their ice cream to stare at him.

His own ice cream had long since become a melty blob of sluggish swamp water oozing out onto the table top.

“You trust him,” Bruce repeated. “Tony, just how deep is your relationship with him?”

_ He’s my friend. _

_ My  _ best _ friend. _

_ I’d do anything for him. _

_ I think I might be in love with him. _

All Tony could do was shake his head. He couldn’t answer that, couldn’t put it into words.

“I’m not an idiot, Bruce,” was what he did say. “I know when something’s real. I care about him, and that’s real. And he cares about me. And that is real, too.”

Bruce didn’t reply.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about that,” Tony said, watching a drop of ice cream slowly slither down the side of the cone. “The Chitauri are here. On earth, again. That’s bad news for everyone.”

“What happened?”

“They attacked us. We crushed them, though. It was pretty epic. But Loki thinks that they’re gonna try to conquer the earth or something, which is not quite as epic. Hence why I came to you. We need to recruit the Avengers.” Tony flashed Bruce a billionaire smile; the kind of smile that could get thousands of men and women all over the world to drop their pants without a second thought.

It did not have the same effect on Bruce.

“They’re gonna try to invade the earth  _ again?” _ he asked. 

Tony shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. They’ve got a crazed, megalomaniacal leader - kind of like Loki was but worse and actually evil? Apparently.  _ Apparently, _ he’s a sicko who enjoys torturing and fucking with and  _ breaking _ other people. His name’s Thanos.”

When Bruce said nothing, Tony continued.

“Loki said that he wants to kill us, first and foremost - well, not first, he wants to kill Loki first, or maybe take him back to his giant alien torture dungeon. And actually, he might decide to take us to the torture dungeon too, so there’s that - and then he wants to conquer-slash-destroy the earth because he’s pissed and moderately insane. Loki said that once he ranted about this crazy plan to kill half the universe - weird stuff.”

Bruce still said nothing.

“But if we band together, we should be able to take him on. That is, if we can find out how to get to his planet. And if we can actually get the other Avengers to believe us. You see what I mean? It’ll be sort of difficult.”

“Sort of.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

Bruce started wiping his glasses with his Purple Brucie Button-Up. “Well, firstly, I would like to meet--”

He was cut off because someone started screaming.

They both stood up, glancing towards the source of the scream. It was an old woman, and she was pointing straight at  _ Loki, _ who was in the middle of the restaurant, most likely not invisible, staring at her like she had just grown another head, with his hands up and a posture that screamed - “I’m a deer and I just got caught in the headlights.”

Then he turned and started walking straight towards them.

He pulled Tony close and whispered in his ear. “The Chitauri are approaching. We have to go. Is he with us?”

Tony nodded.

“Tony,” Bruce said, pointing out the window.

Three Chitauri were barreling towards the glass.

And breaking through the glass.

Tony let out a womanly shriek, ducking down against Loki, who had flung out an arm to protect him. A laser went past his head, exploded against the wall in a shower of sparks. Another one seemed to hit him, but then it simply shattered in midair. Magic, probably.

“Grab my hand!” Tony heard Loki snap.

He saw Bruce grab Loki’s hand.

A pulse of magic went through his entire body, like a second beating heart.

And then Loki let go of him, and he collapsed onto the ground.

Which was made of dirt.

“Oh, holy shit,” he said, coughing, practically eating the grass. “Oh, sweet Jesus.” He covered his head with his hands and let out a drawn-out groan, because his head was pounding as if someone was hitting it repeatedly with a sledgehammer. “Oh god. That was terrible. That was horrible. Does it feel like that every fucking time you teleport, Lokes? You need to get that fixed.”

He heard Loki snort, and then felt hands on his shoulders, which tried to drag him into a standing position but utterly failed because he was not moving from this spot. Oh no. No fucking way. 

“Did we just teleport?” he heard Bruce ask.

Oh, yeah. Bruce was here.

That got his attention, and so he ended up reluctantly rolling over onto his back, and found himself staring up at a dingy sky full of dirty-looking clouds and a bunch of ashy trees waving around above their heads. It smelled better than the DQ, but not much. Faintly of skunk.

“And did you just call him ‘Lokes’?” was the next brilliant question that came out of Bruce’s mouth.

“Get up, Tony.”

“Urgh,” Tony said, quite eloquently.

He reached a hand up and flopped it around in the air. “Help.”

He heard Loki’s annoyed, drawn-out sigh an instant before his face came into view, hair bouncing around his face. Tony was staring so intently into his eyes that it took a few moments for him to see his offered hand.

“Oh,” he said, and took it, allowing Loki to heave him up into a sitting position, and then kick him quite hard in the foot.

“Ow!” he cried, slapping Loki on the shin. 

Loki dropped to one knee. “Stark,” he said, in a tone that was probably supposed to be reasonable, but Tony couldn’t think around his raging headache. “Could you please get up so you can stop your Hulk from murdering me? He looks quite angry.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Tony asked, grabbing Loki’s forearms.

“I’m fine at the moment, but I definitely won’t be if he decides to use me as his punching bag, now will I?”

Tony glanced past Loki, at Bruce who was blatantly staring at them. And at his hands, which were still around Loki’s arms.

He glanced beyond Bruce, at the shadowed forest they were in, reminding him a bit of the place where Loki had asked if he could kiss him, except it was darker, and dirtier, and buggier. A mosquito landed on Loki’s shoulder and he slapped it.

“Ow!” Loki cried, slapping him back.

“There was a mosquito on your-- nevermind,” Tony muttered. He gave a groan in advance of what he was about to do, and used Loki’s shoulders to hoist himself to his feet.

He swayed slightly, his head being pounded on like a huge drum. He blinked blearily in the light, holding out his arms like he was a zombie. Loki caught him against his chest, glanced at Bruce, and then pushed him away, which caused him to stumble awkwardly against a random tree.

“What the hell just happened?” Bruce demanded, stepping forward with a reassuring, strictly Bruce-like anger in his eyes, none of the animalistic rage that the Hulk possessed. Just perfectly average, perfectly human irritation. 

“I teleported us here,” Loki said, brushing some dirt off his shirt sleeve. It was one of Tony’s shirts - a Black Sabbath one, he had accidentally bought two sizes too large, so he had donated it to him. He hoped Bruce wouldn’t notice.

“And then Tony fell on his ass like an  _ idiot,” _ Loki continued, sending him a withering glare. “And now we are standing here.” He threw up his arms in a shrug. “It is only a matter of time until SHIELD find us, but I suppose I can simply teleport us away again.”

“And the Chitauri attacked us,” Tony added. “How do they keep finding us?”

“I’m not sure. But I don’t think we’ll have long until  _ they _ find us, either,” Loki said. He then turned back to Bruce, and took a few steps towards him. “Hello, yes, I am Loki. And no, I’m not going to kill you. Any further questions, comments, or accusations you would like to get out of the way before we can begin thinking of a plan?”

“Uh,” Bruce said, leaning over to glance at Tony. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

“Hurry up and  _ become _ sure, then. We haven’t got all day.”

Tony leaned back against the tree with a sigh. A bug landed on his arm and he slapped it. He felt itchy all over. But, luckily, the headache was getting better. Marginally. But better.

“Okay. Um. Did you say we just teleported?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Loki said.

“And everything Tony said about you, it’s true, right?”

“I’m assuming so, yes.”

Bruce’s eyes dropped to Loki’s chest and back again, which caused Tony to feel extremely guilty for telling him, even though he’d really had no other options and, earlier, Loki had said it would be okay, “Except for when he said he was gonna come alone. He lied about that. Because you were there.”

“I was outside of the restaurant the entire time,” Loki said. “In all respects, you two were alone. I was only present in case you became… violent. I was there to protect him.”

“Mmhmm,” Bruce didn’t sound convinced.

That was when Loki lashed out, quick as a snake, and grabbed Bruce by the collar, pulling him close. Tony stiffened but didn’t intervene, sure that Loki knew what he was doing.

“I would protect him with my life,” Loki hissed in Bruce’s ear. “And if you threaten him, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Same here!” Tony called out, raising his hand. “I’ll be pissed if you attack Loki, too. Or me, for the record. Although I don’t have my suit.”

Casually, Loki waved his hand, and the suitcase appeared in it. He tossed it to Tony. “Here.”

“Cool,” Tony said, catching it awkwardly. He fastened the repulsor to his hand. “Oh, and I’m pretty sure you can let go of him now.”

Loki did.

And Bruce stumbled backwards, one hand still on his throat, breathing heavily.

“ _ Relax, _ ” Loki said, putting a hand on his hip. “If I wanted to injure you, then you would be bleeding. I can assure you that I intend you no harm.”

Bruce massaged his neck and glanced between them. “That was totally unnecessary.”

“Was it?”

Bruce paused, and glanced over at Tony. Tony just shrugged.  _ Sorry, man. If it comes down to it, I’m gonna side with the angry Norse god on this one. _

You guys are serious about this, aren’t you?”

Loki snapped a finger, gesturing for Tony to come forward, which he did without hesitation, sidling right up to Loki who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Indeed,” Loki said.

“The serious-est,” Tony added.

Bruce laughed, taking a step back. “I almost feel like a third wheel!”

And Tony exchanged a glance with Loki, one that very clearly said,  _ Poor guy doesn’t know the half of it. _

But, luckily for Bruce, that was when storm clouds began rolling in from the horizon, deep and dark and striped by bolts of lightning, and Loki heaved an exasperated sigh. “He could cause much less of a storm, you know, if he wished. But  _ no, _ he just  _ has _ to produce an entire downpour of rain, and annoy everybody with his obnoxious thunder, sometimes I swear he’s more dramatic than I am…”

Thor barreled into the ground at top speed, landing on one knee with lightning in his eyes and his cape billowing in the wind.

Loki gestured at him, exasperation written all over his features, as if to say,  _ case in point. _

And Tony pulled Loki even closer, because he knew Loki still felt nervous around Thor. Tony didn't know why, but that didn't matter, because Loki might need him, which meant Tony was going to be there for him. That was all he needed to know.

And yes, Loki did stiffen and yes, he did take a small, possibly instinctual step backwards, so that Tony was standing in front of him, and would have been shielding him if Loki wasn't so fricking tall that any attempts at shielding him failed miserably and made Tony look ridiculous.

"Loki," Thor said. "Stark. Er... Banner?"

Bruce and Thor stared at each other.

"Hey," Bruce said.

"Greetings, dear shield brother," Thor said, placing a hand over his heart and stepping over to Bruce, formality choking the life out of his voice. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Bruce looked caught off guard by that. "Eh... same," was what he ended up saying. A bit of a disappointment after Thor's flowery Shakespearan, but Tony decided to give the guy a break and not point that out.

"I take it that the Chitauri are gone?"

"Yes," Loki said, sounding sulky. "No thanks to you. Although I suppose I should not be surprised. Late even to respond to an urgent message sent directly into your mind by your - by  _ me,  _ who was being attacked by vicious Chitauri--"

"I understand you are angry. I apologize."

Loki raised an eyebrow.

Thor raised his hands, possibly trying to placate him. Tony had a hunch that it wouldn't work. "No apologies. See, I remembered! Too late, but at least I remembered.”

Tony was confused, but he didn't ask. Because he knew what his purpose here was - supportive friend/lover, security blanket, cuddly puppy, random mortal hugging the alien viking - and he could tell because while he was certainly clinging to Loki, Loki was clinging back just as tightly, and trembling faintly all over.

Tony busied himself with rubbing comforting circles in his back.

And he saw Loki's lips curl upward. Juuuust enough to very nearly make his day. (Actually, this had been a shit day so far. So, fuck it. That smile did just make his day.)

“What have I missed?” Thor asked, gripping his hammer very tightly, a cocky smile on his face.

As Tony watched, Loki’s smile got just a bit broader as he rolled his eyes. But too soon, it disappeared. "Thanos may be - is - planning to destroy Midgard. The Chitauri are back, and have attacked us twice. Somehow, they keep finding us. And we have recruited Banner." Loki glanced at Tony. "Is that all?"

"It about sums it up, yeah."

Aside from: whatever it is about you that's scaring Loki, I'd really appreciate it if you stopped, and maybe even left, because I hate seeing him like this and just want him to be okay.

But that would probably have been a bit overwhelming, and too much information. Especially considering that Loki wouldn't want anyone to know that he was afraid. Or if not afraid (because did Loki actually get afraid? Not the oh-shit-my-body's-betraying-me-and-I-fucking-hate-panic-attacks kind of 'afraid' but the oh-fuck-you're-scary-and-I-want-to-run-away-with-my-tail-between-my-legs kind of afraid. He doubted it. Even when talking about the asshole who had tortured him, Loki had only ever been angry), then at least anxious. He was still trembling. Hands shaking. And he wouldn't want any of them to see that.

But he had allowed Tony to stand so near that he could feel Loki shaking.

And if he was allowing Tony to feel this, this so-called 'weakness'... then did that mean that Loki felt safe around him?

It must be, that must be the case, because Loki had slept on a tiny, cramped couch with him, and had lived with him for nearly a month, and had only left once. And he had come back, after that.

(Even after everything he had been through, somehow, somehow, Loki felt safe around  _ him _ .)

It was a huge responsibility. And Tony would protect him. He would not let him down.

It was a simple fact. Like gravity, or the laws of thermodynamics, or "Zebras are white with black stripes." Somewhere in the Huge and Accurate Book of Universally True Facts was "Tony Stark will protect Loki if it's the last thing he ever does during his pathetic, mortal existence."

And sure, maybe there was a subheading beneath that, reading, "Well, he is a human, and doesn't have magic powers, all he has is a repulsor, so he might not be able to protect Loki super well, but you better believe he will try, because that thing can pack a fucking punch."

And sure, maybe there was a little paragraph of fine print beneath that, which said,  _ "Well, sometimes Loki might have to protect Tony Stark, but this is a relationship _ (probably a relationship, although they haven't sat down and actually put a label on it yet)  _ and in a relationship, both people will protect each other. And, as I said before, he's a puny ass mortal and sometimes needs protecting. Which is embarrassing, but true." _

But every chance he got to help Loki, to protect him, to ease his suffering even a teeny, tiny amount... he would take, without hesitation.

Which was why when Loki's breath hitched up, and he started to violently shiver, almost like tremors wracking his body, wide eyes darting between Thor and Bruce, Tony turned them both around and started steering him away into the trees, yelling something vague like, "We'll be right back! We're thinking of a plan real quick!" at the others, and wincing at how awkward poor Bruce was going to feel standing around next to a thunder god, trying to make small talk.

Until he got distracted by poor Loki who was shuddering and shaking and failing miserably at breathing.

But that was something he could deal with. It wasn't as if this hadn't happened before. So Tony knew to put his hands on Loki's shoulders, looking up into his eyes, murmuring, "It's okay, it's all right, you're safe and you're with me and it's okay," over and over, until he remembered the trick Jarvis had taught them - telling Loki to do math problems, because it distracted him from whatever was going on in his head, and he was super sharp at mental math; it was impressive, quite frankly. "Six times six," he said, starting out with an easy one.

"Thirty-six," Loki said immediately, shooting him an irritated glance between breaths as if to say, Seriously? That's the best you got?

"Fine. 123 times 25." That should keep him busy for a while.

Unsurprisingly, Loki had the answer ready in about ten seconds. And they continued with this stupid game until Loki let out a shaky laugh and kissed him right on the lips, all sloppily and saliva-y, murmuring, "Thank you," into his mouth.

Once Tony had gotten over his initial unease at the fact that Loki was putting all his faith in the shadows to keep their unscheduled snogging session a secret from Bruce, he began to kiss back in earnest.

Until Loki pulled away and started to say, "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I just froze, I think. The memories..."

Tony cut him off. "It's fine. I get it.” He stood on tiptoe to kiss Loki on the forehead. "It's totally fine."

Loki kissed him on his forehead, too, and Tony very nearly laughed because Loki's hair was tickling his forehead and it was a little known fact that he was very, very ticklish all over his body... he wondered if Loki would ever realize and make use of that little tidbit of information.

“Uhh…”

As if on cue, they both widened their eyes and both swiveled their heads towards where Bruce was staring at them and Thor was standing off to the side looking nervous.

Bruce repeated himself. “Uh.”

Ah, shit. Tony had a lot of explaining to do.

"Don't Hulk out," Tony said, throwing his hands up as if that would prevent the inevitable. "This is not a Hulk-worthy moment, I can promise you." Yeah, cause all of this is totally normal. So totally normal. Good one, Tony, he's totally gonna buy that.

But, honestly, this was Loki's fault for putting all his faith in the fucking shadows.

"He would have found out eventually," Loki murmured in Tony's ear. "What was the point in denying ourselves this any longer? And besides - it will likely sway him even further to our side. Make him sympathetic.”

True, true.

Fair point, that.

Most logical thing he'd heard all day.

And, since they were apparently about to have a conversation about this, of all things, instead of actually doing something important like, oh, recruiting the other Avengers, Tony sighed and promptly fell flat on his ass in the dirt.

He had meant to sit properly, like a normal person, but he was really goddamn tired, okay? That heart-to-heart with Bruce, not to mention the surprise Chitauri attack, had taken a lot out of him.

He patted the ground next to him. Loki eyed it suspiciously before sighing and sitting down.

Thor sank down onto the ground as well. He seemed really confused but did it anyway, which Tony appreciated.

"Siddown," Tony ordered Bruce.

Bruce glared at him, but did sit down, taking off his blazer and using it as a blanket to seat his ass on.

"Explain this," he said.

"Okay," Tony began, glancing furtively at Loki, then back at Bruce. "Er. So, obviously, we just kissed--"

"You have a knack for stating the obvious," Loki muttered.

"And that's totally normal, and fine, because he's not evil," Tony gestured towards Loki, who rolled his eyes. "And I'm... not, evil either, so it's cool."

"Indeed. Very."

"Yeah. It's great, actually," Tony laughed awkwardly. "Not… oh, fuck. It’s  _ fine. _ Stop looking like you saw us both rip off our clothes and start going at it.”

Everyone stared at him.

“We haven’t…” Tony licked his lips. “Um… we haven’t done that.” His voice trailed off into an awkward whisper. 

Loki did an excellent job of hiding the way his entire body stiffened. But Tony felt it.

Tony wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.  _ Sorry. I’ve got… I have no filter. Jesus, why the hell can’t I think before I speak? _

He laced his fingers through Loki’s, and Bruce winced.

“Okay, there will be none of that,” Tony said, pointing at him. “No wincing, no… no eye rolls, no disgusted little coughing noises or wrinkled noses or secretly texting your friends about how gross Tony Stark and his alien, space god, magical deity lover are.”

Thor looked like he wanted to melt into the ground.

Loki laughed softly.

Bruce paused mid-wince and slowly relaxed his eyelids.

“If you don’t like it, fucking look the other way,” Tony said.

He stared intently into Bruce’s eyes, until, against all the odds, Bruce actually started to smile. “Figures that you, of all people, would be the one to knock up an alien.”

“We didn’t… ugh, whatever,” Tony muttered, squeezing Loki’s hand. “True, yeah, I’m the crazy one - that’s what you should take away from all this. I’m the crazy one. Nice.”

Bruce shook his head. “Sorry, what I was trying to say that this is… is okay with me, Tony.”

Tony looked up sharply, sucking in a breath.

“Not that it matters if I approve,” Bruce held up his hands. “Because yeah, like you said, it’s none of my business, and I know that you probably didn’t even intend for me to see. But from what I’ve seen so far, yeah, this is all okay with me.”

“You believe me?” Tony burst out, leaning towards Bruce incredulously. “You actually believe all of this?”

Bruce nodded.

“I actually had my own suspicions. You know. About the invasion,” he nodded towards Loki. “It didn’t add up. And then, well, with this whole fiasco - my first instinct was to be angry and assume that he had you mind-controlled, because I couldn’t see you going rogue and deciding to break him out of SHIELD of your own accord, but your explanation actually makes a lot more sense.”

_ “Really?”  _ Tony asked.

Loki smirked. A smug-ass smirk, very clearly saying something like: “ _ See? Sympathy. I was right. Haha.” _

“Yeah,” Bruce said, fiddling with his sleeve. “Sorry for wincing, I guess. It’s still kind of weird to see…”

“No,  _ no, _ it’s fine Bruce, it’s more than fine. Thank you.”

Tony’s gaze dropped back down to his and Loki’s joined hands.

A silence descended, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was awkward or comfortable, but he really didn’t care because he was here with his two favorite people in the world - sorry, Thor - and they were actually getting along, and oh shit, was this when they all had a group hug and became best friends?

He wasn’t so naive as to think that everything was going to go well for them from this point on. Actually, it was extremely likely that something Very, Very Bad was going to happen in the near future, but for  _ now _ , this was the happiest he’d been in a long time, sitting here in the dirt, an integral part of this circle of mismatched people, a quarter of a magnificent whole.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg omg OMG thanks for 20,000 hits and 1000 kudos and 200 bookmarks (and 666 comments heh) those are all such crazy high numbers and I love you all so much for your continued support even during my month-long hiatus!! I hope you'll still stick around to read this even though it's been so long.  
> Oh and by the way this chapter is un-betaed so any mistakes (and I'm sure there are many) are my own.

Loki started getting antsy, saying that they should probably leave soon, because, obviously, the Chitauri and SHIELD were both after them, so it wouldn’t do to stay in one place for too long. 

Bruce’s response to that was, “What? The Chitauri  _ and _ SHIELD are both after us?”

Tony shrugged. “Kinda, yeah. SHIELD uses Loki’s magic to track him, but we’re not sure how the Chitauri do it.”

Loki accidentally stiffened -  _ there will be no crevasse, no cave, no barren moon… _

_ You will long for something as sweet as pain. _

The memory flooded back in an instant, sharp and clear as if it had happened mere moments before, and he found himself with his eyes closed, fighting against the urge to seek out Tony’s hand. He had already humiliated himself enough, having a panic attack in front of Banner - he did not intend to degrade himself any further.

“We should go,” he said.

“Where?” Thor asked, stepping forward with his hammer raised.

“Anywhere. As long as it is not near here.”

And wasn’t that what they had been doing all along? And what  _ he _ had been doing his whole life? Trying his hardest to get anywhere other than where he already was?

_ But you always end up standing still. _

Poisonous thoughts, thoughts that caused aches and pains to spring up in his chest, perhaps in his Jotun heart, and they wouldn’t stop - he needed Tony to remind him that he was worth something because he couldn’t seem to be able to remind himself.

But, of course, he wouldn’t ask Tony to do that.

“Come now,” Thor said, and grabbed Banner’s hand. 

Without hesitation, Loki took Banner’s hand in his, simply to prove that he wasn’t afraid.

And with Tony close, with Tony nearby, hand on his shoulder because somehow Tony could always tell when Loki needed him - he really wasn’t.

The sky split in half. Lightning reached down and stole them from the earth, hurling them upwards into the sky.

()()()

As they flew, Tony surmised that there must be few experiences in the universe worse than the experience of dangling from someone’s sweaty hand as a Thunder god propels you through the sky, accompanied by a noise like a thousand guns going off, static electricity making your hair stand on end, and your teeth clacking together with every turn.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about accidentally losing his grip on Loki’s hand, because Loki was evidently using magic to keep his grip strong. He probably didn’t find that possibility very alluring, either.

And Tony was relatively certain that Loki would have applied the same grip-strengthening spell to Bruce’s hand, because if Bruce let go of Tony, he and Loki would both go plummeting to their deaths, and Tony couldn’t imagine that Loki liked that idea very much, either.

Thor was probably strong enough to break a bone with his pinkie, and wouldn’t need any magic to help him along.

This hypothesis was proven when Thor was the only one left standing after they landed/crashed in the middle of a deserted-looking park, while everyone else was groaning in a heap on the ground, clutching their stomachs, about to throw up.

Well, Loki had landed rather elegantly, actually - of course. He was lying on his back, but Tony wouldn’t describe him as a “heap.” More of a “recline.”

And Bruce was already sitting up.

Great. So Tony was the only one about to puke his guts out.

“Holy shit, Thor,” he groaned. “Why don’t you Asgardians  _ slow down _ a bit before you…” he rolled onto his side, practically eating the dirt, and groaned again. “Land in a fucking crater in the… ughhhh… middle of fucking nowhere…?”

Loki gave him a sympathetic pat on the back before springing to his feet, fresh as a daisy.

Tony groaned again.

“I apologize, friends,” Thor said.

They went quiet as a woman with a stroller walked past, staring wide-eyed at the place where they were standing.

“Loki,” Tony said, once she had gone. “Didn’t you employ the noise-silencing spell? I mean, it’s kind of…” he coughed again. “Fucking important.”

Loki sighed and waved a hand. There was a little flash of green light. “That should suffice.”

“So what’s the plan?” Bruce asked.

“We’re just gonna go get the other Avengers, blast Thanos into oblivion, and be on our merry way. I’m sure SHIELD’ll forgive us after that, and even if they don’t, let’s face it, I don’t give a shit… and well, the Chitauri won’t be able to kill us because their leader’ll be dead, and all of them, too, if I - if  _ we -  _ get the chance…”

“This is madness,” Bruce said.

“Which is more mad?” Loki turned on him viciously, teeth bared, suddenly looking quite mad himself. “Destroying the man who wants to conquer the universe, or allowing him to achieve his goals because you are afraid of his army and a few Midgardians with guns?”

“I wasn’t saying I was backing out,” Bruce said quickly. “It’s just a bit overwhelming.”

“You  _ will not back out,” _ Loki hissed, stepping up to Bruce, straight into his personal space bubble and baring his teeth like he was a fucking jaguar or something. “Thanos wants to destroy your planet. And this destruction is imminent; he’s here again, those were  _ his _ Chitauri - I could practically smell their foul, half-witted flesh - and they were about to kill us, so there’s no turning back now, Doctor Banner. Even if you try to leave, they will pursue you until the end of your days.”

Bruce, needless to say, did not look very cheered by that particular pronouncement. Which was good, because if he had been harboring any doubts about participating in the impending space war, they had all been eradicated by Loki’s terrifying outburst.

“Well said, Mister… um…” Tony lost track of whatever joke/nickname he had been about to employ. “Well said, Loki,” he corrected, lamely, lifting his arm and letting it flop back down to the ground.

Loki was suddenly looming over him, looking down with a smirk on his face, his hair… twirling around his head? Was it?

“I think I hit my head,” Tony said. He reached up towards Loki. “Mmm… you look cute with your hair all spinny like that.”

“What are we going to do about this, then?” Tony heard Bruce say, but he was more focused on the fact that Loki was crouching down next to him, whispering, “Shh,” running a hand through Tony’s hair, and leaning in very, very close.

Tony just had no fucking idea what to do about this so he just lay there like a turtle on its back, until he heard Bruce’s footsteps coming closer, and him saying, “What the hell are you two doing?”

“Tony hit his head,” Loki announced. “I am healing him.”

And then he actually did heal Tony, which was greatly appreciated, because everything stopped spinning and he could actually see Loki’s face, which was also appreciated, because god, had he always been this… er… Super Fucking Hot?

Tony coughed. “You’re super fucking hot.”

“Okay, okay, break it up,” Bruce said, pushing them apart. “I have a few questions.”

“Shoot,” Tony said.

“What does that mean?” Thor asked, butting in, sounding nervous. “I do not understand your references, Stark.”

“It means ‘go ahead,’” Loki answered him, with a smirk.

Tony actually growled. That goddamn smirk was going to be the death of him.

“Right...” Bruce said, glancing between them. “Well, what are we going to do about all this? I mean, what’s the plan?”

Tony glanced at Loki. “I thought we’d just wing it. Or at least, we’d think of something once we had the Avengers on our side.”

Bruce glared at him.

“It was just me and Mister Monologue over here for  _ weeks,” _ Tony said, finally thinking of a nickname, and jabbing a finger in Loki’s direction. “If you’re looking for well-thought out plans…”

“I construct great plans,” Loki interrupted, sounding sulky.

“Well, I  _ know,” _ Tony said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But with me there, I’m gonna weigh you down somewhat, since I’m Mister Wing-It… oh god, you know, our children would have a really weird last name? If we had children, that is.”

He didn’t even think before saying the joke but… well. It was only a joke, anyway. When all of this was over, there would be more than enough time to discuss all of this. For now… jokes were a necessity.

But he did hold his breath, wondering how Loki would respond.

“Monologue-Wing-It,” Loki said. He scrunched up its face. “It has a… it does have a certain…”

“It has a ring, yeah!” Tony cried, slapping him on the back, grinning. “Exactly what I was thinking. We’re on - we’re on our own wavelength here, buddy. It’s crazy.”

Loki glared at him.  _ “Ow,” _ he said.

“Okay, quit flirting!”

Tony looked up.

Bruce was glaring at them. And Thor was standing slightly behind him, looking incredibly awkward.

“Do you two speak your own language now?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Loki said.

“No, ‘course not,” Tony said, stepping away from him. “What would give you that idea? That’s crazy, Brucie. I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.”

Ever hear of  _ joking,  _ Bruce? It’s a very helpful coping mechanism when you’re super fucking  _ stressed out. _

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. We do need the other Avengers, and soon, if we’re going to get anything done here. You two are ridiculous.”

“Rude,” Tony muttered. “You’re so rude now. All that time away from me must have corrupted you.”

Bruce looked exasperated.

“All right, I’m sorry Bruce, I’ll focus now,” he said. “I was a little concussed for a second there, I think, so I literally couldn’t think straight, but I’m back now. So we’ll just head over to Stark Tower and recruit the rest of the Avengers! Easy.”

Bruce cleared his throat, glancing warily at Loki, who had a protective hand on Tony’s shoulder, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Um, the Avengers don’t live in Stark Tower anymore.”

Tony stared at him. “What? Not even Cap?”

“No.”

“He has an actual house now?”

“Yeah.”

“And a mortgage?”

“Yes, Tony, it’s not that hard to believe.”

Tony kept staring at him. “And the assassins? They’ve got, like, a creepy SHIELD bunker now?”

“They live separately. I don’t know where.”

“So they still haven’t resolved all that sexual tension?”

Bruce did not smile at his joke. “You’ve only been gone a month. Not everything has been magically fixed while you’ve been gone. In fact, most things have become way worse.”

Tony patted Bruce on the shoulder. “Okay. You should probably elaborate on that.”

()()()

(Bruce POV)

Bruce was pouring vodka in his tea when he got the call from Pepper.

He was in his tiny living room, leaning back against the peeling wallpaper. He wasn’t usually one to brood - it never got anyone anywhere - but he might have been doing that. Yeah. It began with the vodka, because the Other Guy liked vodka, it calmed him down, and then Bruce started

musing about the Other Guy, and wondering if he only drank vodka to keep him away, and not because  _ he _ liked it.

Anyway, then Pepper called him.

And he remembered exactly where he had been when she called. 

It wasn’t a 9/11 kind of thing. Not really. But when he reminisced on that phone call, he realized that nearly every detail had been burned into his memory. It was creepy. It played like a movie in his head.

_ “Tony’s gone,”  _ was how Pepper began. Abrupt, to the point, with a desperation in her voice that made Bruce itch to quickly take a shot.

He didn’t.

Instead he clutched the phone tightly in one hand, gripped the counter in the other, and said, “What?” because it was all he was expected to say, and all he was capable of saying.

_ “He’s been gone for two days. I’m so sorry, I should have told you, but I thought he must have just gone out somewhere, and I’m not his babysitter, I’m not here to keep track of him, but he didn’t - hasn’t called me back, and I know he wouldn’t just leave me here to worry, he’s not like that…” _

“Pepper--”

_ “And you know, Loki’s gone, and I thought… I thought… I’m so sorry, I should have told you when Tony didn’t come home, and I haven’t… I haven’t seen him since he left for that call from SHIELD, and he told me that the call was about Loki, and you told me that you were all there to see him and I thought maybe… when Loki escaped he could have…” _

She was quickly becoming hysterical.

“Pepper!” Bruce interrupted, loudly, then switched to his most calming that-kind-of-doctor voice. “Pepper. You’re suggesting that Loki took him?”

_ “Yes!” _ Pepper cried. 

Bruce eyed that shot glass.

_ “I’m so sorry, I should have told someone, should have told  _ everyone, _ but I was just hoping that he would come home…” _

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Bruce said, although it really wasn’t fine. “I’m not mad at you.” The Hulk growled a protest, and Bruce quickly took a long drink of his tea. “Did you try using his tech to track him? Did he leave a message anywhere? Is there any sign of where he might be?”

_ “There’s nothing.” _

“All right. Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. SHIELD’ll try to keep this quiet if they find out. I want you to tell everyone. Tell the Avengers, tell the press, get search parties out there looking for him, get the world’s top scientists on this trying to trace him. If he’s out there and he realizes people are searching for them, and he’s capable of coming home, he will. Otherwise, we’ll find him. We’ll find him. It’ll be all right.”

Bruce may not have a medical degree, but he could lie just as well as any doctor.

_ “Okay. Okay. Thank you. I’ll do it. Thank you.” _

“We’ll find him.”

_ “I know. I know. Thank you.” _

She hung up.

Bruce contemplated his tea sadly for a few moments before pushing it away. He would need a clear head for this.

()

“The cameras were down for ten minutes last night,” Fury told them, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his leather coat, eyepatch shining like it was covered in scales. The room was bright and smelled like plastic.

Bruce was counting floor tiles.

“More than enough time for Loki to break out of the cell and find him,” Steve said, as if that wasn’t obvious. He was sitting next to Bruce, in one of Fury’s high-backed chairs, his face showing so little emotion that he might as well have been replaced with a robot.

Natasha was perched on top of her chair, squatting like a spider, with even less emotion on her face than on Steve’s. She didn’t even have the decency to look angry.

Clint was in the corner, pulling on the string of his bow. He hadn’t spoken a word during the entire meeting. In fact, Bruce didn’t think he was even paying attention. Which was not a suspicion he had ever had about Clint before.

Agent Hill, forever Fury’s shadow, was standing behind him with her arms folded, silhouetted against the light streaming in through the massive windows.

_ 54, 55, 56… _

The tiles were speckled. Maybe Bruce should count the speckles, because this certainly didn’t seem to be working. The Other Guy was moving around in there - making Bruce feel like his stomach was rumbling, even though he had eaten a croissant earlier -  _ “Fucking France’s half-ass attempt at a half-decent piece of toast” -  _ so he couldn’t be hungry.

“Except Stark wasn’t in the building. You all saw him leave,” Fury stated, looking slightly amused at Steve’s idiocy.

_ “I called him a ‘Capsicle’. Can you believe that? I’m still surprised he didn’t murder me.” _

Bruce shifted in his chair, staring stubbornly at the ground.

_ 78, 79… um… 80? 82? _

_ Dammit. _

His glasses slipped down his nose and he pushed them up, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes? Banner? Something you’d like to tell the rest of the class?” Fury asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Loki can use magic,” Bruce said, easily slipping into a ramble, because all of these thoughts had been spinning around in his head for the past day, pounding against the back of his skull in their feverish desire to get out. “He could have done anything. We don’t  _ know _ how magic works. He could have turned Tony into a towel and worn him around his neck while he escaped! So these are the facts: Tony is gone, and the last time anyone saw him was two days ago while we were all…  _ visiting _ Loki. The last time anyone saw  _ Loki _ was later that night when he escaped.” Bruce shrugged. “And Loki definitely seems like the kind of guy who would want to get revenge on Tony, or use him for his own means.”

Fury’s eye twitched.

“Another fact: the whole world knows that Loki escaped from SHIELD, which is bad news for you guys, yeah, but I really don’t care. So now we’ve got people all over the planet searching for Loki,  _ and _ people all over the planet searching for Tony. But we still haven’t found them.”

Bruce threw up his hands.

“Loki must be using magic to keep them hidden.”

“We have machines that can track magic,” Fury said, in that low, unfeeling drawl that Bruce hated, especially now. “We’ve improved that tech a hell of a lot since New York. If he’s used magic, we would know.”

“He’s powerful,” Natasha said. “And crafty. I’m sure he would have expected that. And found a way to cheat the system. Maybe he’s even taken Tony off-world.”

No one spoke for a while after that.

()

It was hopeless attempt after hopeless attempt. New inventions, created solely for the purpose of  _ finding _ them. Search party after search party, going all over the world. People storming the streets, protesting against SHIELD, an organization that they hadn’t even known existed until a week ago, and now hated with a vengeance.

Until the attempts fizzled out.

Until people stopped caring.

The headlines were once again filled with shootings and politics and celebrities, with the occasional bleak reminder that, “Hey, if you weren’t aware, Iron Man and the psychopathic supervillain who kidnapped him still haven’t been found.”

Bruce had never been a  _ drinker. _ Sure, he enjoyed alcohol. Even enjoyed getting drunk sometimes, But it wasn’t a Thing He Did. It wasn’t an obsession. It wasn’t an addiction.

Tony had been the one to drag Bruce to bars, to force him to get wasted, because - “Come on, Bruce. Live a little!”

Now Tony was gone.

But the alcohol was still there, and it seemed to numb everything (except sometimes, now, the Other Guy seemed to get even  _ more _ agitated when Bruce was drunk, because apparently he didn’t like to be consistent).

Yeah, the alcohol was here and Bruce drank it.

And that’s all he would say on the matter.

()

Bruce had theories.

Of course.

Theories upon theories upon theories, expanded and footnoted and listed in tables of contents, with a synopsis slapped on the back.

No, he didn’t write a book.

But the wall he had covered with sticky notes and string and pictures and paragraphs of “What if’s” and “Magic magic, blah blah” and “Big, Fat, Sciencey Words” was close enough.

He thought people only did this in movies.

Ha!

So he would sit cross-legged in front of his theory wall, a drink in his hand, wondering if he should start doing drugs, and he would think and think and think, which was harder when drunk but the thoughts he did produce were more creative. And outlandish.

_ Loki froze time. _

_ Loki replaced everyone in SHIELD with aliens. _

_ Aliens: Chitauri? Friends of Loki? _

_ Loki was a hologram. _

_ This was all set up by SHIELD.  _ (Actually, that one was pretty plausible.)

_ I’m in a coma?? _

_ TELEPORTATION. ** _

It was really just an attempt to feel like he was doing something. Like he was helping, somehow. Like every stupid, drunken scribble on his wall was one step closer to getting his friend back.

They weren’t.

()

Tony was being controlled by Loki. Loki had used magic on him, had invaded his mind and forced him to free him from the SHIELD helicopter.

That was the truth. 

Pepper had told the press about what went down in that helicopter. (She heard about it from Clint, surprisingly enough, who heard about it from the SHIELD agents who had been mangled.)

This time, the press were not so kind.

And half the country now seemed to think that Tony had freed Loki willingly. 

Which was stupid and ridiculous and certainly not true. (Even though, apparently, he had seemed exactly like himself, and his eyes had been brown.)

But knowing the truth didn’t help to assuage the pain of knowing that Tony was out there somewhere suffering and Bruce was helpless to save him. (Not helpless, he had theories, he had science, he had the Hulk, he could do something, he  _ was _ doing something. Honestly.)

But days leeched into weeks and he did nothing.

()

And then came the Descension. Because it wasn’t a freefall, it was more like casually descending a flight of stairs. Just down and down and down, but it felt purposeful, somehow.

Descension into giving up.

Descension into convincing himself that what he was doing wasn’t truly giving up, but was just assessing the situation, was just saving his energy for the time when someone would inevitably find out when Tony was, and then they would need Bruce to go in and get him. Bruce would save Tony then, so he was just resting up in advance.

But the descension into that mindset was easy. Too easy. It wasn’t a burning staircase, wasn’t a narrow, rickety one. It was wide and grand and sprawling like the stairs in one of Tony’s mansions, and Bruce walked down it with ease, hating himself for every step.

()

Mourning was… was complicated.

Mourning was lying to himself, telling himself that he  _ wasn’t _ grieving, because Tony was still alive. Telling himself that the reason he was crying in his bathroom at one in the morning wasn’t because his friend was dead, but was because his friend was missing.

But it was still mourning. 

And mourning was drinking himself into a stupor and understanding why Tony always used to do the same. Mourning was staring at the sticky notes on that wall until, in a fit of entirely too-human rage, he ripped them off the wall and shoved them in the trash. Mourning was the crippling guilt of being utterly useless while his friend was defenseless, at the mercy of a madman.

Mourning was wondering why he hadn’t been more of a friend to Tony while he was still here.

He  _ thought _ about the gun, but that didn’t matter. It’s not like he could have killed himself anyway.

Sorry. You didn’t want to know that. Sorry.

()

“But I’m fine. Actually. At least, I’m fine  _ now. _ Just fine. And so damn glad that you’re alive.”

()()()

Tony heaved a sigh, eyeing Bruce who was shifting nervously from foot to foot. “All right, first things first, I’m announcing a hug and no one better fucking interrupt this.”

He stepped right over to Bruce and suffocated him in a Big, Fat Science Bro Bear Hug™.

When they pulled away, Tony noticed Thor, who was watching them and wiping his eyes.

“Why the hell are  _ you _ crying?” he demanded.

Thor sniffed. His cape drooped, and his hair hung limply down onto his shoulders, which gave the impression that it, too, was sad, although he most likely just hadn’t showered that morning.

“I apologize… but the sight of others crying, it, it causes me to begin to, ah, sweat from my eyes.”

Loki scoffed.

A tear blazed a trail down Bruce’s cheek.

Thor sniffed and wiped his eyes.

The Magnificent Whole was a fucking mess. (And yes, Magnificent Whole was their name, because Tony found it hilarious. For an undisclosed reason.)

“All right, which Avenger first?” Tony asked, after a few moments of sniffling had passed.

“Rogers,” Thor said, with as much authority as he could muster despite his red, watery eyes, which was still quite a lot.

“Steve?” Bruce said, turning the word into a question.

“I was thinking Rhodey,” Tony said, with a shrug.

“Barton,” Loki said.

All eyes turned to him.

_ “What?” _ three people asked, staring at him wide-eyed.

Loki seemed entirely unfazed by this. “If I can bring his memories back, he will side with us. And, while my memories were surely locked away in the scepter, his would have been taken through much simpler means. I should be able to return them. He will side with us when I do.”

“You sure he will?” Tony asked, cautiously.

“He will,” Loki said, as surely as if he was saying,  _ “The sky is blue.” _

Everyone glanced at each other.

“Alrighty, then,” Tony said with a shrug. “I trust you. But how will you get close enough to him to take those memories? He’ll probably shoot you on sight.”

Loki flexed his fingers, looking down at them. “Magic.”

“But SHIELD’ll find you,” Bruce said.

Loki’s head snapped up. “Well, then I’ll be free to use my magic, won’t I? I’m sure I can take on a few Midgardians with guns.”

Tony sighed, before walking over to Loki and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re forgetting that it wouldn’t be just  _ you _ taking them on. It would be all of us. And  _ I _ am sure that an epic Thunder god who shoots bolts of lightning around for fun; an equally awesome nerd who sometimes transforms into an huge-ass rage monster when he’s pissed; and a totally badass, magic-wielding force of destruction; not to mention  _ me, _ the best of them all,” he cleared his throat, “Will be able to take on a few Midgardians with guns.”

Thor slapped a hand down on Tony’s shoulder. “Well said, my friend.”

“See, you should always do your speeches like this,” Bruce said. “Short, and to the point.”

Loki looked stunned. 

“Thank you,” he said, his words barely a breath. Obviously, it had only just sunk in that he had three other people on his side in his quest for vengeance, which was sad, but not entirely unexpected. 

“No problem,” Tony said, resting his head on Loki’s shoulder. “Anytime.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Uh... sorry about the wait. Life has been pretty crazy recently, I guess? But I got some nice comments recently on this and especially with everything happening with the Coronavirus, I just really needed something to cheer me up, haha, and I thought posting a new chapters should do the trick. I hope this cheers you up as well! I love you guys, please do your best to stay healthy during all of this <3

“So you don’t know about the car chase?” Tony was asking Banner. “You didn’t hear about how I blew up five SHIELD cars, gave ‘em the middle finger, and then shoved Loki in my plane and took off?”

“No…”

“Ugh! Why does SHIELD feel the need to cover up necessary details like that? It was completely badass!”

Loki tuned them out. He scratched absently at his arm, and at the stab wounds beneath his sleeve, experimenting with his  _ seidr. _

Flowing.

Yes. Loki was flowing. Moving.  _ Rushing. _ He heard his own breath catch and felt the  _ snap _ as his consciousness left his body and was snatched away on the wind of his magic, into that place beyond, the place within himself. The Void.

Every creature had one.

Every  _ world _ had one.

His was filled with magic. And now he  _ was _ magic, and he was hurtling, plunging deeper, deeper, deeper… not here, further, go, go, go, down, down, down. Don’t stop, don’t look, walls rush, blackness spins. Down, down, down, like falling, like falling as the stars whip past, as the stars disappear into the distance beyond your reach.

Ah, darkness.

He used to spend hours here.

He remembered the _ if only’s  _ he would think, as he hurt and hurt and hurt, coming apart in Thanos’ grip.  _ If only I had my magic.  _ He could have escaped within himself, like this. He could have been free. He wouldn’t have had to feel anything. And he would be whole.

No sense in wishing for things that cannot come true.

He spun,  _ he _ spun, everything in him suddenly reversed into itself, before kicking off against the nothingness, as if he was swimming, but not, because he was nothing, he was nothing but movement _ … flowing. _

Freedom.

Down, down, down he went. The blackness never intensified, the pressure never increased, and yet he knew he was going down, because of the simple sense of knowing that burned heavily in the back of his mind. Unease crawled beneath his not-skin as he went deeper. Something was there, lurking in the black.

It was the Mind-Link.

He  _ knew _ it. He knew it had to be a Mind-Link. Only Thanos would use such uninventive means of enslavement and think himself a god for it.

He  _ rushed _ at the thing experimentally.

It gave.

All of itself, it gave.

People upon people upon people. Loki himself. Selvig. The SHIELD agents whose names he did not know. That one bitter, twisted, charred attempt at Tony. He would have shuddered when he saw it, had he a body to shudder with. Thanos himself, and the Chitauri. Interesting.  _ Useful. _ When he regained his strength, could he follow them through the Link?

Oh, but…

But  _ there. _

Barton.

Loki flowed.

Up and up and up and  _ out. _

And he came back to himself with the ease of someone who had accomplished the same many, many times before - with grace, flowing back into himself, breaking through the surface of the waves with barely a ripple. Opening his eyes and blinking, breathing evenly, all of his body tingling slightly as touch and hearing and sight accosted him all at once. It was overwhelming, but he did not show it.

“I know where he is,” he announced, to the people who were standing around him, and who had still been talking quietly until he spoke.

“Oh, hey, thought you were meditating or something,” Tony said. “Know where who is?”

“Barton.”

They all stared at him, which they seemed to be doing quite a lot. 

“Really? Where?” Tony asked, eagerly. “Because we were just brainstorming about that. And why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Loki waved his question aside. “He is in Russia. With Romanoff. They are… kissing.”

“Told you!” Tony cried, to Bruce, who glared at him, before turning back to Loki and asking, “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tony shrugged, seeming to agree. “Okay. Creepy magic powers can do everything, I guess. Thor? Russia?”

()()()

Loki decided that he despised Russia.

It reminded him of Norway. And, to a lesser but no less infuriating extent, Jotunheim, with its barren tundras and malignant blue icicles and Frost Giants roaming around like cattle. They probably chewed their own cud, too.

_ Ah, Thor, _ he could imagine himself saying, and very nearly did.  _ This reminds me quite a great deal of the place where I tried to convince you to leave before a fight broke out and people got hurt, and you told me to know my place. _

He would have said it, had he deserved to be angry over such a thing.

But then again, he knew what  _ Tony _ would say. Tony would say,  _ “That’s fucked up, that he told you that. Your place is right up there next to him. Your place is right up next to every sentient being in all the however-fucking-many realms.” _

And if Thor had just listened to Loki, then Loki would never have discovered his heritage and would never have been so foolishly, foolishly angry that he thought a monster like him could ever deserve to be king, would never have betrayed Thor, betrayed the one person who had ever loved him for who he was (although had he? Had he really?) and, worst of all, would never have  _ let go _ , would never have decided that the best course of action was the give up and  _ die, _ and would  _ never _ have landed on the stinking pit that was Thanos’ Norns-forsaken shithole of a planet.

(But Tony wouldn’t agree with most of that, either, would he? Tony wouldn’t agree that Loki was a monster. Tony might even say that Loki deserved to be king. But Loki didn’t know if Tony was wrong, or if Thanos had warped Loki’s entire way of thinking, had tortured him into believing, into truly believing, that he was unworthy. That he was pathetic. Loki didn’t know.)

So he kept silent.

Stupid, anyway, to bring up such things now.

Now, when all four of them were standing in the middle of a howling wasteland, where wind cut through their clothes like a knife slipping between ribs, where the pressure of the cold upon him was like the unrelenting pressure of hands around a throat.

Needless to say, he was in a bloodthirsty mood.

Needless to say, no matter what was true, no matter what was actually going on in his head, Thanos would pay for it all. Twice over, if Loki could manage it. He imagined screams of pure terror and pain ripping through the air -- and it made him smile.

“Now what?” Tony asked, nudging Loki with his elbow. “We all thought you were meditating again, but you just smirked so I figured you were done, but if you’re still going strong then feel free to tell me to fuck off--”

Oh. Loki would never get used to the fact that there were three people around who were consistently watching him and waiting for his opinion. He had figured that he could close his eyes and contemplate for a few moments and no one would notice.

But, then again, when one of those people was his not-quite-brother, another his maybe-lover, and a third his accidental-pummeller, it made sense that they would pay attention to him.

It still felt unnatural.

“He is far away,” Loki said. “Thor, you have taken us to the wrong place.”

“I took you to Russia,” Thor said.

“Russia is the largest country,” Tony explained. “You probably took us to the wrong part of Russia.”

Everyone groaned.

()()()

Thor landed them in what Tony dubbed “The dark side of Moscow” because apparently every city had a “dark side.”

He also happened to have landed them right outside of what appeared to be a “shady, shady, shady looking bunker,” according to Tony, built into the side of a hill. Greasy-looking snow dripped down over a blank metal door. Drooping ferns, spiky patches of brown grass, and a few gaudy, out-of-place bushes of bright berries grew sparsely in the snow.

“Should we knock?” Banner suggested.

When no one offered, he sighed and stepped forward, rapping three times upon the door, before stepping back into their midst.

They made an intimidating sight, Loki surmised.

Tony had put on his suit, and he looked formidable, of course. Thor with his hammer and his still-sparking, slightly glowing eyes. Banner… was less foreboding, but had the potential to be at a moment’s notice, which was unsettling in itself. Loki, of course, looked especially menacing - he had used a glamour to clothe himself in leather, but without the green because he wanted to look nothing like he had during the invasion of New York. 

Tony said that the all-black made him look, “Sexy as the vampire dude in Twilight, and just as sparkly.” Loki really didn’t know how to interpret that, so he just smiled and nodded, which Tony seemed to find hilarious.

“You okay?” Tony asked, after flipping up his face plate and leaning in close to Loki so no one else would hear him speak.

Loki could have told him the truth, could have told him about the anxiety that was doing laps in his stomach because the thought of even laying his eyes on Barton terrified him. Loki didn’t know if he could actually bring himself to face him.

But that didn’t matter. He had to. So he would. 

“Yes,” he lied, smiling reassuringly.

Tony kissed him, and Loki hummed softly in his throat, kissed him back just as gently, just as softly… until, although he still wasn’t  _ okay, _ he did feel marginally  _ better. _

“If you ever aren’t, you just need to tell me,” Tony murmured. “I know that there’s a lot going on right now, but despite all of this, my first priority will always be you. I’ll be right there if you need me.”

Loki cupped his cheek, rubbed his thumb over his chin, and smiled a genuine smile that made his face hurt. Although he would never have doubted that Tony would be there for him, it was so very reassuring to hear him say it.

“Thank you,” Loki said, and kissed him on the forehead, and pressed a hand to the shining metal circle on his chest, that piece of armor that lay directly above his arc reactor.

Tony laid a hand on Loki’s chest.

Loki’s smile disappeared.

It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t  _ like that. _ Tony’s arc reactor was a symbol of his strength. But the thing that lay on Loki’s chest was a sign of his  _ submission. _ His weakness.

Loki bit his lip.

“Hey, you two lovebirds,” Bruce said. “Thor heard a click. Apparently.”

Loki sighed softly, and offered Tony a false smile, before turning away and striding up to Thor. He crossed his arms and eyed the door. “A click?”

Thor nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

Thor was a god. Loki supposed he might have better hearing than a mortal. Or, perhaps, it was nothing, just a snapping twig. Perhaps Barton and Romanoff were too deep inside the bunker to hear them, in which case Banner would either have to break down the door, or Loki would have to teleport them inside. That would allow SHIELD to find them, but then again, Barton and Romanoff were with SHIELD, so it stood to reason that SHIELD might already know of their presence…

Should Loki have turned everyone invisible?

Or should he have cut himself more, so he couldn’t even teleport? Would the Chitauri be able to find them if he was strong enough to teleport?

(He didn’t know, didn’t know -  _ stupid.) _

He wasn’t overly concerned if SHIELD found them. It seemed inevitable, and it seemed manageable.

But the Chitauri…

It could not be allowed to happen.

He placed his hand over his forearm, over the place where he knew the wounds were hidden. He winced accidentally, because, although they had healed slightly, they still stung. The pain was lessening, though. Soon enough he would  _ have _ to cut himself again. The magic would flood to the wound, trying to heal it. And it would be too busy healing it to reach out, to  _ move, _ to be noticed. Magic was movement, and could only be traced when it was moving.

Simple, really. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized this before.

There was a click.

Tony, who was standing next to him, gasped. “Click! Click. I heard a click,” he said, pointing at the door.

“I think we all did,” said Banner, who was standing next to Thor. 

They were standing in a straight line. Like a band of heroes. 

_ Click. _

Loki tensed. 

Should he cast a protection spell over them? Or would that be enough for the Chitauri to track? He didn’t know...

With a creak and a shudder, followed by the high-pitched whine of old, rusting machinery, the door began to rise. Beyond was nothing but darkness.

And--

“A bald Russian!” Tony hissed in Loki’s ear.

Indeed, it did seem to be a bald Russian - a very,  _ very _ bald russian, with a forehead that gave off a pale reflective shine, little to nothing in terms of eyebrows, and a naked lip and chin. He was scrawny and pasty and hairless all over aside from…

“Ergh,” Tony said, screwing up his nose. “Aside from his arms.”

Which were covered in a thick layer of blonde hair, even worse than Thor’s, like the light-tipped heads of hay plants growing abundantly in a field.

“Hello, friend,” Thor said, stepping forward, waving his hammer around before noticing what he was doing and attempting to hide it behind his back, as if that would make a difference, because the bright red cape and the overall  _ Thor- _ ish appearance were bad enough. “We are travelers from a… distant land, here to visit your humble abode.”

“And our assassin friend,” Tony added. He nudged Loki. “Did you put a glamour on us?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “I did.” He shifted uncomfortably. Would the Chitauri be able to track the glamour? Could they do that? Perhaps he should pretend to drop his knife, slice open his leg, would  _ that _ be enough to hide his  _ seidr’s _ trace?

He realized that no one was speaking.

“And our assassin friend,” he echoed Tony, in Russian.

“Assassin friend?” echoed the Russian. Despite having no eyebrows, the skin above his eyes did quite a good impersonation, hanging heavily over his eyes, making it clear that he was quite unhappy about this new development. “What kind of assassin friend?”

“Ones you would do well to send out here to visit us,” Loki said. He raised his hands and smiled, in a way that said,  _ It is what it is, ugly Russian. Nothing to be done for it.  _ “And might I add, your abode is indeed very humble, but also very elegant, for all its humility.”

The Russian blinked at him.

And Tony stared at him before relaxing and whispering, “I was freaked out for a second before I remembered that you speak literally every language--”

“Silence,” Loki said.

“Okay, okay, fair enough.”

“ _ Do _ make this easy. Difficult people are such a  _ hassle _ to deal with,” Loki said. “Just send him out and we can be on our way. Clint Barton. Not so hard to remember, is it? Just go on and fetch him for us. Although whatever you do, if you see him kissing a stern Russian woman with falsely-colored hair, do not allow her to accompany him, unless you want your lovely sludge here to become all… blood colored.”

He smiled encouragingly.

The Russian blinked at them, before shrugging his massive fur-coat covered shoulders and retreating back inside. The door rumbled shut again.

Loki flicked his wrist, and a knife appeared in it. From the pocket dimension. Surely,  _ surely, _ Thanos wouldn’t be able to find him through his usage of the pocket dimension?  _ Any _ Jotun could create one… at least, he thought so...

He didn’t know.  _ He didn’t know. _

No, wait, wait,  _ idiot, _ the Chitauri didn’t appear until you were fully healed. Until the scars were gone. So you’re fine, you’re  _ fine _ now, they can’t find you, they can’t find  _ Tony, _ they won’t, they can’t…

_ But what if they do, anyway? _

Loki glanced quickly at Tony, he was alive, for  _ now, _ but - he didn’t know, didn’t know, should he cut himself again? Should he stop using his magic altogether? He didn’t know - what if he did the wrong thing and was the reason Tony…

_ Died? _

Loki felt for Tony’s hand, and his metal fingers curled around Loki’s as if it was automatic, an impulse. He didn’t even ask why.

Loki wished Tony wasn’t wearing his suit, so he could feel his actual hand, the warmth of his skin, and be certain that he was alive and healthy and whole.

The door gave a shuddering lurch and began to rise again.

No one spoke.

Aside from the whirling, panicking thoughts in Loki’s mind, that is, although they began to whirl in an entirely new direction once the door rose enough to reveal Barton, standing there with a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and a bow pulled taut in his hand, a quivering arrow pointed directly at…

At the ground, now that he had lowered it. And now that his brows had furrowed with cautious confusion, and he had stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath his boots.

“Banner?”

“And Thor, and friends,” Banner said, smiling awkwardly. “We needed to speak with you. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Barton said. His eyes -  _ blue eyes, electric blue - _ darted warily to each of them in turn. When his gaze fell on Loki, there was nothing, not even a flicker of recognition. And Loki had expected that. To Barton, he looked like Hogun, someone he had never seen before. 

And yet, he couldn’t help feeling on edge, feeling that at any moment, that bow would snap up again and an arrow would embed itself in his throat.

Barton cocked his head to the side - some kind of signal? - and suddenly the woman, the red-headed woman, was standing there beside him and  _ flash,  _ she was on the outside of the glass, looking in at him, he was studying her, examining her for weaknesses -  _ “Thank you for your cooperation.” _

_ Flash, _ Loki tensed, Loki’s entire body shuddered. She looked straight at him, and it seemed like she looked straight  _ through _ him, and…

He lifted his chin and met her gaze squarely, unflinching. Ever the master of disguise.

“Looks like we’ve got some company,” Romanoff said. She nodded towards Banner, and nodded towards Thor, her eyes never leaving Loki or Tony. "Who're these two?" she asked.

Quickly, Tony let go of Loki's hand. He cleared his throat, awkwardly wiped it on his chest.

Damn. That was going to cause an awkward conversation later.

"We want to talk to Clint," Banner said.

"Okay," Romanoff said.

Barton glanced at her sharply, then said, "Go ahead and talk, then."

"Alone," Banner said.

"No," Romanoff's voice was flat.

Barton glared at her this time. "No," he echoed. "You won't speak to me alone."

"We're working," Romanoff crossed her arms. "Why are you here? Explain."

"To talk to Clint."

"You came all this way?"

"Thor can fly."

Thor raised his hammer. "It is true. I can indeed fly, Lady Romanoff."

Romanoff glowered at him. "Well, say your piece or scram. We have an interrogation orgy to get back to."

Barton suddenly looked extremely awkward.

Loki glanced at Tony, who glanced back at him. Neither of them said a word, but somehow Tony's expression managed to speak volumes.

"You're fully clothed," Tony stated.

"I'm also experienced," Romanoff growled.

“Interrogation orgy,” Tony repeated, very slowly. It would likely have been disturbing to hear such a sentence in Sif’s voice.

“You’ll be surprised at the amount of information people will give away,” Romanoff said. She was very clearly amused by Tony’s reaction. But the amusement vanished almost instantly, so maybe she hadn’t been amused. “Who are you?” she snapped at Tony and Loki. “Why are you here? Why are  _ any _ of you here?”

“We need to talk to Barton,” Banner said. “It’s about Tony. We might be able to find him if we can access the leftover magic in his head. A powerful weapon like the scepter - it’ll have left traces.”

He said it with such confidence, that Loki was certain they would be fooled into thinking he knew what he was talking about.

“And how the hell would you know that?” Romanoff demanded, crossing her arms. “Or is he supposed to be your lab rat?”

Ah.

No such luck, then.

But that was when he noticed the look of interest on Barton’s face. He was intrigued.

“Don’t you want to know what he did to you?” Loki asked, softly. 

Barton’s interest was quickly replaced by alarm. “And what would  _ you _ know about it?” he asked, stiffly. Loki recalled, too late, that he wasn’t supposed to know that Barton remembered little to nothing of the events that transpired during the invasion. Like Loki, he got his information mostly from brief flashbacks, and the footage. He likely remembered even less than Loki did. Thanos had  _ intended _ for Loki to remember those few things: like how he had thrown Tony out a window, and how he had forced those people to kneel…

Loki forced himself back into the moment.  _ Focus. _

He stepped forward. 

“I’m a specialist,” he said. “I study magic, as ridiculous as that sounds. At its core, it is energy and movement. Whatever Loki did to you would have taken a lot of energy. I know that you probably don’t remember most of what happened, but there are traces undoubtedly left in your brain, even still. If we can get it out…” he shrugged. “Maybe we can use it to find out more.”

“Get my memories,” Barton said, expression unreadable.

“Yes,” Loki said. 

Barton held himself with the quiet, stony resignation of someone who had already made his choice. And Loki did not doubt what that choice would be. For as awful as having the memories would be,  _ not _ having them was even worse. Blank spaces in your mind. And that gnawing dread that comes with not knowing what you have done, of how far you’ve gone, of how broken you already are without even realizing it.

“We can do it here,” he said. “I have all the equipment with me. My only request is that you and I are alone. In your head… there will be things that were not caught on the cameras. They could be anything. They could cause you to become dangerous to yourself and others. I won’t bring your memories back unless we’re alone.”

Barton nodded without hesitation. “Let’s do it.”

“Clint--” Romanoff began.

He turned on her, shook his head nearly imperceptibly, and leaned in to murmur something to her. 

Then he was walking through the snow, and he was standing in front of Loki, and reaching out his hand. “Clint Barton.”

“Yinsen,” Loki murmured, it being the first name to pop into his head, and this was not the time for hesitation. “Doctor Yinsen.”

“Nice to meet you. Where should we…?”

Loki did not meet Tony’s eyes. But he felt Tony’s metal hand brush lightly against his own as he turned and began to walk away, just him and Barton alone in the snow. 

Flakes fell softly, like drifting feathers, landing in Barton’s hair. Brown eyes. Sternly set, like stones. The rigid line of his jaw, a tenseness that ran throughout his entire body, like there were invisible wires keeping every muscle, every tendon fixed firmly in place.

But the further they went, the more vulnerable he seemed. Eyes on the ground, one hand white-knuckled around a handful of arrows. Perhaps, in a past life when he had been  _ Loki, _ truly Loki, he would have taken advantage of that vulnerability somehow. Twisted it into something rotten and ugly to use for his own means, to take power from those who deserved it.

Not so anymore.

Now, he could not help the pang of sympathy that cut straight through his dirty scab of a heart, for when he looked at Barton, he was looking at a less bruised, but no less broken version of himself.

“It requires contact,” he said. 

Barton stared at him. “Where’s your equipment?”

“Contact, first. Take my hands.”

A chill wind blew past in a gust of brittle pellets of ice. Loki could feel the beast within him yearning to break free. But for now, his hands were pale, his fingertips turning red with the cold, and outstretched towards Barton.

Barton took off his gloves, shoved them in his pockets. He did not hesitate before covering Loki’s slender hands with his own rough, calloused ones.

They were swept away on the wind. Spinning into black.

()()()

Clint wanted New York to burn.

He had  _ always _ wanted New York to burn.

Wanted skyscrapers to fall. Wanted streets, riddled with traffic, to be torn up, as if they were gnarled, swollen roots, ripped from the ground. Wanted it all to spiral up into a dizzying crescendo: the crashing of symbols, the shattering of glass, the shrieks and screams of its citizens like the high, vibrating song of a flute.

Clint liked to attend symphonies.

Although he would never tell anyone that.

Clint liked to attend symphonies, and this would surely be the best symphony he had ever heard.

_ “Drive,”  _ Loki hissed. His voice echoed through Clint’s mind, the most elegant of music. Loki must be a snake charmer, he mused. Must be.

For as soon as Loki spoke, Clint got into the driver’s seat, shifted the truck into gear, and  _ drove, _ tires spinning on the concrete, screeching as they careened forward. In an instant, it was  _ eyes on the road, _ it was  _ swerve left,  _ it was  _ avoid the bullets. _

He thought of nothing else.

When Loki murmured, “Support me,” in his ear, Clint realized that they were outside, in the dark, walking through tall grass. 

And then it was  _ hand on his shoulder  _ and  _ another on his waist to stop the blood you can feel seeping through his clothes  _ and  _ make sure he keeps walking, don’t let him slow down. You want New York to burn, remember? _

They walked for a long time.

Stars glittered overhead. Pinpricks of fire.

()

Loki was a good leader.

He was cruel when he had to be. Especially cruel after conversing with Him. Loki would spare no one, then. He was calculated and cunning and his plan was flawless.

But sometimes he would be merciful, as any good leader should be. Proving to his soon-to-be-subjects that his dominion over them would be better than this silly notion of “freedom.” Freedom is life’s biggest lie, after all. Humans were made to be ruled.

Loki was a good leader.

He knew exactly what to do in order to conquer earth. Every movement was precise. Every position that they occupied was necessary and advantageous. It was a fact. Clint didn’t need proof, because it was a fact.

Loki walked beside Clint. He talked to him as if he were an equal, and not just a soldier. He leaned on Clint, used him to support his weight, because he was noble enough to admit when he needed help.

“You are a good leader,” Clint told him, once, because it was all he could think about and the desire to voice it was overwhelming.

Loki smiled bitterly, one hand pressed tightly to his waist. No blood was visible because of his glamour, but they both knew it was there. He had wounds on his back, too. And a limp.

“And you are a good soldier,” he murmured, his eyes meeting Clint’s and staying there.

Clint bowed his head. “Thank you, sir.”

He could see Loki swallow. He watched him turn and limp away.

After that, he felt nothing towards Loki. He knew he was their leader. And that was all. Whether he was good or bad did not matter, and was not evident.

All that mattered was watching New York burn.

()

They were about to attack in Stuttgart.

They were positioned outside of a low building. Clint didn’t know what it was, and it didn’t matter to him. They were about to attack in Stuttgart.

Loki was watching him. Had been for a long time.

He put a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

Clint turned and looked at him. “We are about to attack in Stuttgart. You have to stay here and be ready.”

Something shifted.

“Come with me,” Loki repeated, blue eyes burning into Clint’s.

They were about to attack in Stuttgart.

But Loki was his leader. And Clint would follow him. That was more important.

“Yes, sir,” Clint said.

Loki sucked in a breath. “All right. Quickly. Don’t think about it.”

Clint’s brows furrowed. He didn’t understand that order. But he followed Loki silently anyway, focusing on the hitch in his step, the limp that had gotten worse. On his hand which kept slipping down from his waist, probably slick with hidden blood. Loki was their leader. But was he too injured to lead well? 

If that was so, they would not be able to burn New York.

But as he followed, his thoughts descended into  _ follow him,  _ into  _ don’t think about it,  _ into  _ quickly. _ And nothing more.

Loki stumbled.

Clint caught him.

“It’s not strong enough,” Loki said. “It’s wearing thin. I need to heal. I can’t exist like this.”

Clint didn’t understand.

They came to a room lined with stalls. Showers.

Loki opened a drawer and found bandages and disinfectant. He gave them to Clint and then he took off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning on the water. Clint followed him.

Loki removed his glamour.

He was bloody, all over. Bruised. His back had been whipped raw. 

“Quickly,” Loki said, letting out a sob.

Clint pasted a bandage over the gaping wound on his waist. Several more on his back. They were soaked through in an instant.

Loki sobbed again, leaning heavily against the wall.

“I need to heal,” he said, again. “I need to heal. I need to be under His control again. Please.”

“Why aren’t you healing?” Clint asked.

“Because I’m dying,” Loki said. “Too much of my magic went into the scepter. I think my magic is trying to leave my body. Trying to protect itself.”

“Then take your magic out of the scepter.”

“I will lose my hold on some of you. Thanos will notice. He will be angry.” Loki’s voice shook.

“But New York will burn. You must do it. New York  _ must _ burn, and it cannot if you die.”

Loki stared at him.

“Do it,” Clint said. “Do it. You must. You have to.”

“I have to,” Loki repeated, his voice like an echo.

“Yes.”

“I have to. I have to,” Loki said. “I  _ have _ to.” He ran his finger down the tiles of the wall. It left a line of pink, watery blood. “I have no choice. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be under His control again. I won’t have to feel it anymore. I won’t know what I’m… what I’m doing anymore. Right?”

“Yes.”

Loki closed his eyes. Eyelashes fluttered. Water cascaded down, hitting his broken skin and rising up again in clouds of cold mist. Clint couldn’t tell if the droplets on his eyes were from the shower, or if he was crying.

“Please, Thor,” Loki whispered.

Then he stepped out of the shower, picked up the scepter, and did it.

()

Three hours later, Natasha cracked Clint’s head against the railing. He came awake with a start and a gasp like his head had just broken the surface of a frozen lake. He did not remember anything that had happened. If there were flashes of memory later on, none of them contained what had happened between him and Loki.

()()()

Now Barton came awake again, but in a different way. His eyes opened slowly. His breathing changed, but only minutely. A hitch in the rumbling of a smooth motor. Nothing worth taking note of.

But then he yanked his hands out of Loki’s, pressed them to his sides. 

Loki swallowed, and raised his chin.

The moment he lowered his glamour was the same moment he realized that he was crying.

And Barton made a noise like a frightened mouse, somewhere deep in his throat. He took a step back, staring at Loki wide-eyed. 

Loki looked back at him steadily, and clasped his hands to hide their shakes. But he didn’t bother hiding the tears. They fell freely from his eyes, hot and shameful enough to hurt. 

“Okay,” Barton said.

“What?” Loki winced when his voice came out thin and hoarse and shaky; the voice of someone in tears. He cleared his throat and repeated it. “What?”

“To whatever you need me for. To whatever made you have to do  _ that _ just to get me on your side - okay. I’ll do it.”

“You need no proof that those memories are indeed yours?”

Barton shook his head. “I  _ know _ that they are mine.”

Loki bowed his head. “Then I thank you.”

They turned together and walked back through the snow.

() () ()

“He is with us,” Loki announced.

The others’ eyes were all on Clint, sensing that something had changed but not knowing what.

And Loki couldn’t get those memories, those images, out of his head. 

It took everything he had to keep himself from descending into panic, from huddling on the ground to gain some comfort, some sense of safety against the blood that had dripped from his fingertips, from the criss-crossed lash marks on his back like a hundred gaping mouths, flayed skin  _ dangling _ like ragged curtains. From watching himself, his past self, struggling to pick up all his own broken pieces, like he was trying to cup water in his hands but it kept leaking through his fingers.

“And he will not waver,” Loki said. Because he knew that Barton wouldn’t.

He turned to Barton, who was watching him with that heavy knowledge in his eyes. But unlike with Banner, Barton’s eyes didn’t instinctually flick down to his chest. His eyes remained steady, fixed solely on Loki’s. “We are here to wipe the Chitauri from all the Nine Realms. To extinguish their putrid filth. And to utterly destroy and exact our vengeance on their leader, Thanos.”

Barton nodded, and Loki swore he saw the edge of his lips curl upwards in a bitter smile.

He held out his hand. “Sounds like a party.”

Loki took his hand and shook it. “Will Romanoff join us?”

Barton glanced back towards the door of the bunker. Romanoff was leaning against it, next to the bald Russian whose hand was resting on her waist. Her eyes widened suddenly and she pulled a knife out of her belt, storming forward across the snow, murder in her eyes.

“Nope,” Barton said.

“Then we will go now. Thor.”

“Okay. But first, there’s still one thing I’m confused about,” Barton said. He pointed at Tony. “Who’s he?”

Loki laughed lightly, and removed Tony’s glamour. “Hi,” Tony said. He raised a hand and awkwardly waved it.

“Oh,” Barton said. He was definitely smiling now. “Okay. Now I’m ready to go.”

Everyone linked hands. A screamed curse from Romanoff was the last thing they heard before Thor took off into the sky.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd post another chapter now to make up for the two month wait. My goal for quarantine is to get this whole thing posted for you guys :)
> 
> Trigger warning for graphic self-harm.

“So you were only kissing Nat for the interrogation orgy,” was the first thing Tony asked Barton, nearly as soon as they arrived in another, colder, snowier part of Russia.

“Yeah.”

Tony lifted his face plate, wincing as a gust of wind hit him in the face. “Dammit. And you were totally okay with leaving her there? Since when?”

Barton glanced at Loki, who was watching silently with his arms crossed. “Some things are more important.  _ This _ is more important.”

His eyes remained solely on Loki’s face. Loki kept waiting for the moment when they would drop down to his chest, but it hadn’t come yet. And he hadn’t even mentioned any of what he had seen in his memories. Yet. It had been about sixty seconds since they arrived; there was still time.

But for now, Loki greatly appreciated his silence.

“What happened?” Tony whispered in his ear, as soon as Barton turned away. “How the hell did you get him to side with us? You put back his memories and… what, you hypnotized him?”

Loki glared.

“Whoa,” Tony said, putting up his hands. “I’m just  _ wondering. _ I don’t fucking know.”

“I didn’t hypnotize him.”

That was all Loki said on the matter.

“Now what?” Banner asked, kicking at a snow drift, grimacing. “Now what do we do?”

He seemed to have taken Barton’s change of heart in stride. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care.

“Brother… you did not use mind control, did you?” Thor asked, only a few moments later. “Because I have witnessed the anger that Barton harbors for you, and I cannot see him suddenly deciding to…”

“I didn’t fucking hypnotize him!” Loki cried. He turned on his heel, stalked over to Barton, and said, loudly, in front of everyone, “Tell them.”

“He didn’t hypnotize me,” Barton said. His voice low, subdued. His grip on his handful of arrows was still tight as iron. “He didn’t harm me in any way. Swear on my bow.”

Speaking of swearing… Loki glanced furtively at Tony, wondering if he would be angry for Loki’s usage of Yinsen’s name. 

But his worries were cast aside when Tony sidled up beside Loki and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Sorry for accusing you of that,” he murmured in Loki’s ear. Loki saw that he had removed the metal that covered his hand, and the heat came through, quieting the monster within him somewhat, allowing him to breathe easier. 

“ _ Now what?” _ Banner repeated, stepping up next to Barton, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Where do we go from here? You two have terrible planning skills.”

“Well,” Loki said. “The plan, as Barton may not know, is to recruit the rest of the Avengers. And then destroy Thanos.”

“The plan is a work in progress,” Tony said.

“I can see that,” Barton said. “We need to sit down somewhere and really think about this. Put our heads together.” He raised his bow. “And, just for clarification… Tony wasn’t mind-controlled? How did you two end up together, again? What’s been going on? I have no idea what’s happening.”

Loki sighed, and pulled him aside, quickly filling him in because, well, he didn’t want to remind everyone else of the unpleasant details.

Barton was stone-faced as Loki confirmed that he had, indeed, been tortured.

He was stone-faced as Loki described how Tony had taken pity on him (for that was, really, what it had been) and stolen him away to his safe house.

He was stone-faced as Loki told him that he had no memory of what had transpired in New York.

“My memories are all you have?” Barton asked.

“And brief flashbacks,” Loki said. “Of the worst parts. But yes.” Although now that he had seen Barton’s memories, he felt that they fit, somehow, that he simply knew that yes, these things had happened to him. Perhaps he had always known, somewhere deep down.

Something in Barton’s face twitched. But that was the extent of his reaction.

Loki appreciated that.

“Now, Thor,” he said, once they returned to the others. “A place to scheme?”

Thor sighed, and raised his hammer.

()()()

“Home sweet home,” Tony said, when they landed back in his tiny safe house in Washington. He spun in a circle, admiring the beige walls. Loki was about to make a joke, something like,  _ “Ah, Stark, yet more proof that you are plain. Is the word ‘monotonous’ written across your bedroom wall, perhaps?”  _ before he remembered that they weren’t alone.

It was so strange, being here with so many people.

“Table,” Tony said.

They sat down. The table was long and rectangular, and Tony groaned, “This reminds me of a board meeting. More like  _ bored  _ meeting - er, Jesus Christ. Scotch, anyone? Either of you Asgardians fancy guzzling a hideously expensive bottle in under ten seconds?”

Loki wasn’t Asgardian, so he said nothing.

“Aye, I will,” Thor said, smiling slightly. He was sitting beside Loki, leaning in close. 

Barton’s eyes were fixed on the table. Banner was saying something to him, too softly for anyone else to hear.

Tony set a bottle in front of Thor. He poured glasses of whisky for all of them from another. When he had set them all down in front of everyone, he sat next to Loki and scooted his chair in close to the table, folding his hands beneath his chin. “I hereby adjourn this meeting at…” he glanced at the clock. “1:25 p.m. Christ, how the time flies. Hi, I’m your meeting leader. Everyone comfortable here? No one… need anything? Potty break?”

“Will the Chitauri find us here?” Thor asked. He had set Mjolnir on the ground. The floorboards were bending beneath its weight. Loki guessed that this safe house had been built when Tony was not quite as rich as he was now.

“No,” Loki said.

Tony looked at him strangely. “Hmm? Why not?”

Instinctively, Loki pressed a hand to the stab wounds on his arm, and found… that they had nearly closed.

_ Shit. Shit. _

He stood abruptly. “Is there a bathroom…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony said, standing as well. Everyone else raised their heads, suddenly alert, watching them closely. Tony, perhaps without thinking, put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, and began to steer him away from the table. 

“I can take directions.”

“Oh,” Tony let go, and stepped away. “Down that hallway,” he gestured. “On the left. Can’t miss it.”

Once Loki reached the bathroom, he closed the door hard behind him and slid down to the floor, hand over his arm, nails digging into his arm. He pulled up his sleeve and stared at them, at the neatly scarring wounds, his heart pounding hard in his throat.

And everywhere he heard cold, crawling laughter.

Loki jerked his wrist. The knife appeared in his hand, but his hand was shaking and he dropped it. It clattered to the ground.

He froze.

_ Deep breaths.  _

_ Deep breaths. _

_ Idiot. _

No, Tony said he was smart, told him he was strong…

_ Ha! So you can only feel significant when you have someone there to force such lies down your throat?  _

_ Ah, but if he only knew what  _ else _ had been forced down that pretty white throat of yours… can you see it? See the disgust in his eyes? _

“Stop it,” Loki said. “Norns. Gods.  _ Devils, _ stop it.””

There was no  _ time  _ for this.

So he grabbed the knife and plunged it into his skin without even pausing, without even  _ thinking, _ baring his teeth against the pain, making no sound because oh, he was used to this. And in some twisted way, it… it seemed to reduce his panic, his shaking, it seemed to…

Loki pulled the knife out and dropped it into his lap. He stared at the floor. Dully.  _ What is wrong with you? _

He didn’t move for a long moment, breathing harshly, the awful pain somehow having cleared his thoughts. He chewed on his lip as if it was a hunk of red meat. He had thought that he was getting better, but he must have been wrong, if he was insane enough to be calmed by plunging a knife into his own flesh.

Why couldn’t he just get  _ better? _ Why was there always some piece of him that had to be broken?

_ Tony said he wasn’t broken. _

(But what did  _ Loki _ believe?)

He needed Tony. He wanted Tony here, holding his hand.

He was sickeningly dependent, it seemed. Couldn’t function without him.

Not that he despised Tony for it. No, he… he loved Tony, more than anything. No, all the anger that he felt was directed solely on himself.

At least the pain was for a purpose. At least he wasn’t  _ choosing _ to hurt himself for no reason other than… other than that he  _ wanted  _ to. No, he had to do this. He had to, lest Thanos’ magic draw on his, lest Thanos use it to find him, as if he was pulling on the end of a rope, letting it drag him through churning waves of water.

Purpose. A purpose. You have to do this.

(But it barely even hurt. How could anything hurt, after Thanos?)

(And that realization chilled him. Made him feel ill. At least, if he was going to throw up, the toilet was right there to do it in.)

Loki stared down at the knife. He poked it with a finger, which came away slick with blood. No reaction. Nothing. Had the sight of his own blood become commonplace? Nothing more than the sight of the sun itself, or a speck of dust filtering through the air?

He picked up the knife and cut into his skin once, twice, three times. Blood welled up and spilled out in rivers down his arm. Crimson on pale white.  _ Red eyes against deepest blue.  _

He let out a sigh, and dropped his head back against the wall, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Norns,” he said.

It was hard to wrap his head around.

Around the fact that little more than a month ago, he had still been in that cell, he had still been…

And now he was here.

Sometimes, his time with Thanos felt like a dream.

_ Sometimes, _ his time with Tony felt like a dream. Sometimes, he still worried that none of this was real.

“Norns,” he said again, letting out a broken laugh, burying his face in his hands.

He had three out of five of the Avengers on his side. Not to mention Tony Stark, the one who he had tossed out a window.

He had four people on his side. Four powerful people, and they were going to  _ exterminate _ the Chitauri like the vermin they were, and they were going to  _ slaughter _ Thanos and then Loki would tear apart his body.

He couldn’t let the past get to him.

Not now.

Now, he had to be a warrior. Had to push his thoughts away and focus on the fight, as Thor would do. Nothing but animalistic battle cries and motion, movement, his body like that of a pouncing panther. Nothing but swings and punches and the knife in his hand, then embedded in someone’s throat. 

Loki had never been a good warrior.

He had always been the weak one, the one who wished to  _ avoid _ bloodshed -  _ how could Thor have ever believed it of Loki? Have ever believed that he would willingly kill all those people? -  _ but not now.  _ Now, _ he had to fight.

He would do it with a smile on his face.

“And I will not break,” he said.

Something cold and hungry burst to life inside of him. It sharpened its talon-like claws on his ribcage and it scratched its thistle-covered back on his spine. Hungry for blood. Hungry for war. Hungry for death. For the death of those who had hurt him.

Loki picked up the knife and sliced into his arm again, once more for good measure. 

“Nothing less than what I will do to  _ you,” _ he promised to Thanos.

He hunted around for bandages. Then he washed the wounds in the sink and wrapped them. And, lastly, watched as they faded away beneath the glamour.

There was blood on the floor.

He grimaced, and wiped it up with a rag. He did not know if Tony had machinery here that would block any traces of his magic, so it would not do to use complex spells. And, besides, it would be much more difficult, now that his magic was once again focused on healing him. He didn’t want to tire.

Then he flushed the toilet, to make it seem like he had been doing  _ something _ normal in there.

“I’m back,” he announced, grinning as he made his way back to the table. He dropped down into his seat between Tony and Thor. “Miss me?”

Everyone was looking at him, and yes, it made his skin crawl, but  _ guess what, Thanos? At least I will  _ have _ skin by the time this is over. _

Revenge was truly the best medicine.

()()()

“All right, so, as we were saying,” Tony said, not-so-subtly laying his hand on Loki’s wrist, giving it a squeeze. “Apparently, the Chitauri and Thanos live on a planet of darkness in the farthest reaches of the Nine Realms, where not even the strongest of warriors would dare step foot?”

Thor nodded, his hair bouncing up and down with the motion. “Indeed. Loki, if I may ask, how  _ do _ you intend to get there?”

“And,” Tony added, “I was wondering if I should bring more nukes. Finish the job, you know?”

“Are we going  _ to _ them?” Banner asked, leaning forward, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. “Because there have been subsequent attacks, and I thought that perhaps  _ they _ might end up coming to  _ us.” _

“Oh yeah. Bruce turned on his phone and there were a ton of messages - apparently Pepper found out about this because SHIELD, surprise surprise, wanted to keep it quiet, but she found out from, uh, Nat? Or was it Clint?”

Barton shook his head.

“So she found out from Nat, because apparently they text each other now,  _ or _ honestly she might have just used Jarvis to hack them because SHIELD  _ needs _ to update their security, either way, she’s gonna tell the press cause you can’t keep five separate alien attacks a secret from the public. Sheesh, they are  _ not _ looking so hot right now. Maybe the riots’ll start up again? Hope so.”

“Minnesota, Quebec, mmm… Mexico, Kansas…” Banner read.

“Oh yeah, and they’re all the places we were at.”

Loki pressed a hand to his forehead. “Could they have seen past your… magic-stifling wards?”

Tony hesitated.

“Uh… I guess. If they had the tech.”

“Chitauri technology is unparalleled. Yes, they have the tech.”

“Shit.”

“So they’ll find us here?” Barton asked.

“No. And if they somehow do regardless, it will take them some time,” Loki said, inwardly cursing everyone and everything. “But it’s not as if we are going to stay here. We will create a plan of attack and then execute it. I know the most about the Chitauri, so, naturally, I should come up with the plan. Yes?”

He was met by two shrugs (Barton and Banner), one irritated glance (Tony), and one nod (Thor.)

Loki cleared his throat.

“The Chitauri are a hive-mind. They are not proper, independent creatures. Think of them as bees, all living to serve their queen. Without her, they have no purpose. They would probably lay down and die. 

“The ‘mind’ used to be contained in a stone, which was held by the Chitauri monarch and its consorts - there were different ranks of Chitauri, it was all very impractical and senseless - but Thanos arrived on their planet and easily overwhelmed them, stealing the stone for himself. I know not where he keeps it. It is likely that he absorbed it within his own  _ seidr _ . In which case, to defeat the Chitauri, all we would have to do is kill Thanos.”

“Oh,” Banner said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Interesting.”

“Huh,” Barton said.

“Sweet,” Tony said. He slid his hand further down Loki’s arm, but luckily it was not the arm that Loki had cut, so it didn’t hurt. “Should be easy then, right?”

“Thanos is strong,” Thor said.

“Thanos is ruthless,” Loki said. “Nothing about this will be  _ easy.” _

“Oh.” Tony rubbed circles in Loki’s arm with his thumb. “Okay. Then what’ll we do?”

Loki cleared his throat.

“I know how to get to Thanos’ planet. Through the Mind-Link.”

“Mind-Link?” Barton said. “Is that what…?”

“Yes.”

They shared a glance. Loki looked away.

“Thanos is not a mage. He is not a skilled magic user. He is a Titan who thinks magic is a weapon to be wielded by anyone, but it is not. He is not prepared to handle his own power.” Loki smirked. “And, thus, he put the Mind-Link in my head, and did not remove it. Forgetting that I, too, have power. Forgetting that I  _ do _ know how to wield mine. I can find him through the Link.”

Stunned silence.

“So are we leaving now?” Barton asked. “Cause I’m ready.” He pulled an arrow from his quiver and spun it through his fingers. 

“No. Thanos is _ strong _ ,” Loki said. “And it would be better to kill him the first time than to fail and come back for more. We,” he indicated each of them with his eyes, “May not be enough.”

“Seriously? How tough is this guy?” Banner asked.

Loki glared at him.

“My magic,” he said, “Is still… weakened, for lack of a better word. Thor is an idiot who will not follow the plan. The Hulk is mindless and cannot think with strategy. Barton shoots arrows, for god’s sake. And if your suit is destroyed,” he looked at Tony. “We will be killed with ease. Whereas Thanos is an unstoppable force of nature, more ancient than all the Nine Realms, merciless and cunning, for the most part, with an army of slaves who would follow his every command unquestioningly.”

Silence.

“We need others. Luckily, you all seem to have some dangerous friends.”

“Natasha,” Barton said.

“No,” Tony and Loki said at the same time. 

“Steve,” Banner said, throwing up his hands. “Obviously.”

Loki nodded. “Perhaps. Indeed.”

“Sif. The Warriors Three. They would help us,” Thor said.

Loki hadn’t thought of that.

He had used the illusions of Sif and Hogun to conceal his and Tony’s identities. That was one thing. It had been uncomfortable, but he had dealt with it. But it would be quite another thing to see them in the flesh, and to remember how they had stood in that room and watched silently as Thor…

But it didn’t matter how Loki felt.

This was war.

“Yes,” he said to Thor. “Yes. We will need them. You will get them.”

“They do not look upon you favorably,” Thor said, cautiously.

“Does anyone, these days?” he laughed.

“Steve will understand when we tell him what happened,” Banner said, softly, his eyes once again darting down to Loki’s chest. 

“So will Rhodey,” Tony said.

“And Nat,” Barton said.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

_ “Yes,” _ Barton said. “She’s not that much of an asshole. Besides, I can vouch for him.”

He and Loki shared a glance.

Loki swallowed and looked away. He hated that he knew what was on everyone’s minds. He could tell by their suddenly soft voices, their not-so-casual glances, the increased pressure of Tony’s hand in his. They felt bad for him.

It worked to his advantage, of course, but he didn’t want pity to be the only reason that these people were on his side. He didn’t want pity at all.

“Oh, and Steve has this friend - this guy with a metal arm - and he… might join us,” Banner said. 

“Yeah, because we definitely need metal arm dude on our side,” Tony said.

“We need as many people on our side as we can get,” Loki said. His voice was firm, and could be taken as angry, so he squeezed Tony’s hand to let him know that he wasn’t.

“There’s this guy named Sam, but he’s…” Banner trailed off.

“Lame,” Tony said. 

“Indeed. This will be no place for the weak,” Loki said. 

Banner nodded.

Which was when Loki realized that they were all looking to  _ him _ for confirmation. When they made a suggestion, they were making it to  _ him. _ A room full of Midgard’s most powerful heroes, and they all cared what he had to say.

Even Thor. Even Thor was nodding along with what Loki said, and he wasn’t interrupting, wasn’t speaking over him. He was listening. They were all, actually, listening.

It shouldn’t have meant so much.

“Right,” Tony said. “I’m announcing a food break. Should I order pizza?”

He was met by a host of blank stares.

“Only you,” Banner said, with a smile creeping onto his face. “Would order pizza at a time like this.”

Tony grinned.

()()()

The couch was enormous. And it looked ridiculous, in such a small room.

And it was interesting to see how everyone arranged themselves. 

Barton in the corner, leaning against the armrest, with his quiver of arrows on the floor between his feet.

Banner in the middle, next to Tony. They were talking, and Banner was laughing.

Thor was standing awkwardly next to Loki.

And Loki did not want to be alone with him, so he walked over and, instead of sitting beside Tony, he sat next to Barton.

After all, he didn’t  _ need _ Tony. It wasn’t as if the very action of sitting apart from him was putting him on edge. Was making his heart beat wildly. No.

_ Weak. _

Loki raised his chin, and looked at Barton, who was already looking at him.

They said nothing.

Nothing needed to be said.

Thor approached, looking as if he was walking towards a den of lions. “No,” Loki said. “Sit somewhere else.”

Thor’s face fell.

But Loki didn’t think he could stand to sit beside Thor on the couch. Around the table had been one thing. There had been space between them, and Tony had been right there next to him. But here, there was no kind of barrier, and there was no one but Barton, who wouldn’t understand… 

Thor sat down in the opposite corner, tracing the runes written on his hammer, looking as if his favorite bilgesnipe had just died.

“Poison arrow,” Barton said. Then he shoved the arrow into Loki’s hands.

Loki blinked at him, and blinked at it. He turned the arrow in his hands, admiring the green tip. “Effects?”

“Poisons the blood. Kills you faster than the wound. Heart stops, brain activity ceases. Your whole body just stops working. Don’t touch the poison.”

Loki scoffed. “I wasn’t about to touch the poison.” He handed the arrow back. “A thing of beauty.”

“Thank you.” Barton shoved the arrow back into his quiver. “You’re favoring your right arm.”

Loki stiffened. But Barton was still pretending to busy himself with the quiver, so he couldn’t have seen.

“Why would you care?”

It was Barton’s turn to scoff. He sat back up. “Because we need you in this fight.”

“I will have healed by the time the fight begins.”

“Good.”

But the softening of Barton’s eyes led Loki to wonder if there was another reason that he cared. If it wasn’t all purely about strategy.

The softness, however, was gone in an instant, hidden beneath carefully blank eyes. Perhaps he and Barton had more in common that he would have thought.

“It’ll go straight in your chest, by the way,” Barton said. “If it turns out that this is all some kind of trick. I doubt that it is, but I thought I’d give you a warning, just in case.”

“How considerate,” Loki murmured. 

Tony ran to the front door a few minutes later, and returned with three boxes of greasy pizza. He dumped one in Thor’s lap, and another in Loki’s, set the third on Banner’s knee and then plopped back down on the couch beside him, instantly resuming whatever conversation they had been having.

Loki tapped his fingers anxiously against his thigh. Thor was talking with them now, as well, and the drone of their loud conversation was putting him on edge.

_ Pull yourself together. _

“So,” Barton said. “This Mind-Link. I’d like to know how it works. It’s in my head, after all.”

“Of course,” Loki said, and turned towards him, eager to talk about magic, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant of kinds. 

“Think of the Link as a vine,” he began, gesturing with his hands. “It stems from Thanos’ magic. And then it would have gone into me, and from there branched out into all of you. That doesn’t mean I had any control, however. Thanos was the puppetmaster.”

“And what is it, exactly?”

“Magic. Ancient, ancient magic. It took your essence, your very being, and focused it all on the ‘mission.’ Thus, you were still yourself, but just…” Loki fumbled for a word. “Narrowed down, I suppose.”

“Huh.” Barton hesitated. “But you… seemed to be more aware.”

“He wanted me to suffer,” Loki said.

Silence hung in the air, because that was all that had to be said.

But when Barton looked at him, it felt like their shared gaze communicated thousands of unsaid words.

“Do you miss her?” Loki asked.

“Yes.”

“Your loyalty will not falter, will it?”

“No. I’ve got more than enough reasons to be here, trust me. Possible alien invasion not among the least of them. I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Bruce. He talked to me. We came to an agreement.”

Loki hoisted one of his legs up onto the couch, and rested his elbow on his knee. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Barton said. Loki could admire someone who kept their answers short, who held their secrets close to their chest, but Barton’s one-word answers were growing annoying.

“Congrats, by the way,” Barton said, mischief lighting up his eyes.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“On your relationship,” Barton added.

“Ah.”

“I’m Hawkeye,” Barton tapped the side of his head, near his eyes. “Of course I noticed. And, you know, I meant what I said. If all of this is true, then I guess there’s really no reason to hate you. In which case, I can be happy for you, when something goes your way. So, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Loki murmured. 

Barton reached into the pizza box, which was resting on his legs, and grabbed a piece of pepperoni. 

“Eating pizza and talking about relationships when the future of our planet is at stake,” Barton said, gesturing at the others, and then at his own slice. “So human.”

()()()

“We should be fine here for a few hours,” Loki said, when everyone began milling around uncertainly in the kitchen. “I propose that we sleep.”

Everyone seemed to agree.

So Banner and Clint went off to their guest rooms, and Tony headed off to the room that he and Loki would undoubtedly share to get changed.

“Loki…” Thor said. “Why do you avoid me?”

“I do not,” Loki said. He drank a few gulps of scotch straight from the bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Avoid you. If you haven’t noticed, this place is about the size of one of the palace bathrooms. It’s hardly a simple thing to avoid someone here.”

Thor only shook his head, twisting a piece of his hair around his finger. He had braided a few strands of it, Loki realized. And he wasn’t wearing his cape anymore. Not to mention…

“Where is Mjolnir?” he asked.

Thor pointed to where he had set it on the floor in the kitchen. But Mjolnir had broken through the wooden floorboards, and now its handle was poking out of a jagged hole, surrounded by dust and splinters.

“He said it was fine,” Thor muttered.

“Indeed,” Loki said, dryly. 

And then, as if to prove a point, he walked up to Thor and slapped him hard on the back. “I will retire to my bed now,” he said, sauntering off down the hallway. He didn’t turn back to see if Thor had watched him go.

When he reached their shared room, Tony, who was already in bed, offered him a sleepy smile. “C’mere, erp-derp-san,” he mumbled, one hand dangling over the side of the bed.

“ _ Elksan,” _ Loki corrected automatically. 

He crawled into bed beside Tony, and rested one hand on his shoulder, nuzzling into the back of his neck. Loki let out a soft sigh, and smirked when he felt Tony shiver.

“Good night,” Tony said. The light went off.

“Good night.”

When Loki woke up, he was back in his cell.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait, I meant to update this much sooner but, obviously, it's been a month now... *awkward laugh*. My apologies, guys!   
> Thanks for all your encouraging comments, though! I know I didn't reply to any of the ones on the last chapter, but I did read them all and appreciate them a lot.  
> Anyway, this chapter is a monster - I hope you enjoy it!

They must have heard the screaming.

It was all Tony could hear, after all.

Because one second he was looking at Loki, and his heart was sinking, and he was reaching out a hand—“Hey, bud, hey, it’s all right, you can put that pillow down, I’m not gonna hurt you” —and the next Loki was flinching horribly, all over, and letting out this ear-piercing  _ wail _ that nearly stopped Tony’s heart.

And they must have heard the screaming, because in an instant Tony heard the door open, saw Bruce standing there, with Clint behind him, arrow already poised in his bow, and Thor barrelled past both of them, shouting for—“My brother! Where is he? Is he all right? Let me  _ through!” _

“Everyone get the  _ fuck _ out!” Tony yelled.

It probably hadn’t been the wisest decision, because Loki flinched again at the sound of his voice, and huddled into a ball, and started making little whimpering sounds, speaking in that other language with the occasional ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please’ thrown in. 

His eyes were locked onto Thor.

“You,” Tony said, pointing at him. “All of you. I will fucking  _ kill _ each of you slowly if you don’t get out of here.”

One by one, they filed out the door.

Tony sat down in front of Loki, legs crossed, and took a moment to breathe deeply into his hands, rub furiously at his eyes, wait until the dregs of sleep had drifted away and he felt awake enough and calm enough to actually deal with this shit.

Then he dropped his head into his hands again, because for an instant all he had wanted to do was take Loki into his arms, hold him close, kiss him on the forehead, and make him feel as safe as possible because that was what you were supposed to  _ do _ for someone that was hurting, especially someone you loved - but he couldn’t because Loki looked almost as terrified of Tony as he had been of Thor, and he probably didn’t know that Tony only wanted to help him, if Tony touched him Loki would probably think that he was going to get hurt…

Think that  _ Tony _ was going to hurt him.

“Deep breaths, Tony,” he told himself, because Jarvis wasn’t here to do it for him. “One, two, three, inhale.” He did. “One, two, three, exhale…”

He wiped at his eyes.

“Oh, Loki,” he said, to the man who was still curled up in a ball, shaking, face halfway buried in the pillow, whimpering slightly, sounding as if sobs were trying to force their way from his throat. “Oh,  _ Loki _ ,” he said, to the man he was almost certain he loved. “I’m not going to  _ hurt  _ you.”

It was so fucked up that he had to even say that. 

And so fucked up that Loki clearly didn’t believe him.

And anyway, this didn’t matter, Tony was being an idiot because none of this mattered—he had to decide what to  _ do. _ What the hell was he supposed to do?

Probably back away.

Probably leave Loki here on his own.

Probably come up with some half-assed excuse to feed the Avengers and then eat breakfast with them as if everything was fine.

So Tony did. 

He stood up and he left. And he hated himself for it, but what the hell else was he supposed to do?

* * *

“Just to be clear,” was the first thing Clint said, when he ambushed Tony right outside the doorway. “He wasn’t screaming because  _ you _ were hurting him.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t how Tony had expected him to react, but it was an easy enough question to answer. “No, of course not!” he snapped. “And get away from the door.”

“Then why was he screaming?” Clint asked, softer this time, matching him stride for stride as they walked away. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he didn’t smell the… freshest.

Tony stopped and stared him down. “Why do you think?” 

He pointed at the door they were standing in front of. “Take a shower. I’m got a washer in there that can wash and dry your clothes in two minutes flat. Use it. And don’t fucking accuse me of abusing him ever again, or I might get pissed and stab one of your own arrows in your eye.”

“Uh…” Clint blinked at him.

Tony muttered something unintelligible, tried to save it with a joke but was unable to come up with a good one so he ended up just pivoting on his heel and walking away.

Straight into Bruce, who stopped him with a hand on both his shoulders. “Is he okay?”

Tony’s mouth fell open.

As he realized that both of them had been really, truly only concerned for Loki’s wellbeing, and somehow he hadn’t… expected that.

He would apologize to Clint once he got out of the shower.

“Yeah,” he said, automatically, before switching it to, “Uh… no, not really. Don’t go in his room. He’s… um… he’s...”

“Okay,” Bruce interrupted, without hesitation. He left one hand on Tony’s shoulder, used it to steer him into the kitchen.

Thor was there, looking for all the world like a puppy that had just gotten kicked.

“He’ll be okay,” Tony said.

Thor nodded, eyes on the ground. “I thought it would be best to remain here. He… seems not to desire my presence, as of late.” He looked up. “Has he told you what I have done to make him angry?”

Tony shook his head. “It’s not like that. He’s not angry at you.”

“Then why does he treat me like a stranger?”

_ Loki reached up for Thor’s belt buckle, his hand trembling, tears streaming down his face... _

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, although he thought he might. “But I don’t think it’s your fault.”

“We’re dealing with an extremely damaged individual here,” Bruce said. “Sometimes fear outweighs logic.”

Tony’s first instinct was to turn towards Bruce and tell him that no, Loki wasn’t damaged, but then he sighed and sort of deflated, leaning back against the counter. Loki may not be broken, but… yeah, he was…

Well.

He  _ was _ damaged.

Not that Tony loved him any less for it, of course. 

So all Tony did was nod, and begin to head for the fridge because, well, coping mechanisms, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?” Tony muttered.

Bruce’s eyes seemed to pierce.

“You’ve done well, you know.”

Tony swallowed.

He heard a footstep, and he spun around to see Clint standing there with his arms folded. Clint nodded towards Bruce. “He’s right.”

“ _ Don’t _ sneak up on me, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Tony muttered, pointing an accusing finger at him. He opened the fridge. “Alcohol, anyone?”

* * *

“Holy shit,” Bruce said, a few moments later, when all four of them were standing around with drinks in their hands. He was holding his phone. “Apparently, groups of Chitauri have been spotted all over the country, just this morning.”

“What?” Tony and Clint said, at the same time.

“Ah…” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “Florida, um, Malibu, Orlando… Dallas… tried for San Francisco, but were intercepted… SHIELD’s still intact, ambushed them and got their weapons. The military’s stationed everywhere… it’s a fucking mess.”

“They’re looking for us,” Clint said. “We have to go get the others and  _ leave. _ How much longer is Loki gonna be in his room?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He set his glass on the counter, because he felt like he was about to drop it. Then he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

“How long does it usually last?” Bruce asked.

“ _ It _ doesn’t have a set time limit,” Tony muttered. “ _ It  _ will probably be worse than usual, because  _ you _ all went in there. He gets… confused.”

Tony groaned, covering his eyes. 

Bruce patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

And when Tony opened his eyes again, it was to see that Thor looked utterly crestfallen, his eyes like two huge bowls of misery soup, his hammer dangling lifelessly from one hand. “This happens often?” he asked.

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” Tony muttered, and quickly took a sip of his drink. “Don’t… okay, don’t tell him I told you all any of this. He probably wouldn’t want you to know.”

They all nodded.

“And, anyway, this isn’t what we should be focusing on,” Clint said. “This isn’t a pity party. It’s a defeat-Thanos-party.”

Tony snorted. And then he laughed, much too loudly, and as soon as he was done laughing he cleared his throat and took another sip to alleviate a bit of the awkwardness.

They all stared at him, awkwardly, anyway.

“Ahem,” Tony said. “Go on.” He waved a hand.

Clint proceeded to spew a detailed profile of each of the not-yet-recruited Avengers, their strengths, weaknesses, which arguments were most likely to sway them, which  _ order _ they should recruit them in for the highest chances of success, and a ton of other shit that had Tony wondering whether Clint was a stalker or a mind-reader, and which option was the creepiest.

“And lastly, as for Natasha—who I still think we should at least  _ try _ get on our side—I’d say to appeal to her humanity, but, you know. So I’ll talk to her.”

Then he leaned back nonchalantly against the counter, as if he hadn’t just spent five minutes describing Rhodey, Steve, and the One-Armed Dude down to the smallest, creepiest detail. 

“Wow,” Bruce said.

“That all sounded like it would work terrifyingly well,” Tony said. “But, hey, you’re with SHIELD— I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Clint scoffed. “I’m only with SHIELD for the intel. It’s not like I support them anymore.”

“Oh, hey, cool. We’re all basically on the lamb together. Running from a creepy government agency that stole a bunch of Chitauri weapons. Neat.”

“Midgardians with guns,” Thor scoffed.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said, offering him a fist bump.

Thor stared at him.

“Never mind.” Tony withdrew his fist.

A pause.

“I should go check on Loki,” he said, already walking away. 

Bruce caught his elbow.

“You okay?” he asked, a hand on each of Tony’s shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes, as if he was searching for something. Tony saw the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed.

“Does it matter?” Tony asked.

Slowly, Bruce removed his hands, and tucked them away in his pockets. He let out a sigh. “But after all this is over, we are  _ all _ getting therapists,” he said, and took a step back.

Tony rolled his eyes. Then he gasped, and snapped his fingers, which caused Bruce’s eyes to widen and Thor and Clint’s heads to snap up towards him. “Avengers pizza party. Once we kill Thanos, we  _ are _ having an Avengers pizza party. I mean… me and Loki aren’t Avengers, but you get what I mean. Avengers-plus-Tony-and-Loki party.”

“I think the Avengers could use a couple more members, don’t you?” Bruce said.

Tony stared at him. 

And then he grinned.

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good,” he said, saluting Bruce, walking backwards towards the stairs. “Sounds great. You guys are great.”

Everyone was smiling, which was horrendously cheesy but also horrendously  _ nice. _ Tony felt like a weight had been lifted. One he hadn’t known existed.

And he began to climb the staircase.

* * *

The first thing Tony heard when he opened the door was an unmistakable  _ beep. _ And he jumped to the side just as Wall-E came careening towards him, in his Roomba form once again, and spun in a tight circle,  _ whrr- _ ing like mad.

Wall-E turned back around and rolled back to Loki, who was still huddled in the corner, and who stopped him with a gentle hand, murmuring something to him softly. Wall-E  _ beeped _ a response, and Loki smiled.

“Uh,” Tony said. 

Loki raised his chin, somehow summoning an air of defiance even when he was curled up into a ball, and even when he lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered.

Tony sighed softly, closed the door, and crouched down a few feet away from him. Loki swallowed, watched him warily, pulled his knees closer to his chest, but Tony pretended not to notice. “I went to Bruce, and got him to join us in our… quest. And then you went to Clint, and did  _ something _ that got him to join us, too.”

“I know,” Loki said. “Tell me what happened during my… episode. Do they know?”

“Know what?”

Loki shot him a look of pure loathing. “You  _ know _ what I mean.”

Tony scootest closer, put a hand on Loki’s knee. Wall-E beeped, and Loki glanced at him for a moment before looking back, his eyes finding Tony’s. He looked young. And vulnerable. So Tony grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“I told them most of it, yes,” he said, trying to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest.

“Tell me what you told them.”

“I told them…” Tony sucked in a breath, shifted into a more comfortable position, nearer to Loki, who glared at him but didn’t pull away. “About your, well, condition when you first got here, and how you’ve been getting better.”

“Condition,” Loki repeated, slowly, like he was tasting the word. “So, my panic? Nightmares? The… the food? Memory loss?  _ What?” _

“Just your injuries when you arrived. And, yeah, the… the panic attacks, and the memories, but that’s all, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not your fault. And they won’t think that you’re weak for it, they’re not like that.”

Loki looked away. “Yes. I… know.”

“You do?”

“They do seem to respect me. Despite it all.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Hey,” he put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Are we good? I know this is a stressful situation and there’s been a lot of shit happening, but we’re still fine. Right?”

Loki kissed him. “Of course.”

Wall-E  _ whrr- _ ed happily.

“Tony,” Loki said, when Tony made to stand up, stopping him with a hand in his.

Tony sat back down. “Yeah?”

“There is much I have kept from you, we both know that. But I will tell you. Someday, when I am able, I will tell you all of what he did to me. And all of what  _ I _ have done.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Of course, you don’t have to listen…”

Tony smiled sadly, cupping his cheek. “I’ll listen.”

“Thank you. I don’t… want to keep any more secrets,” Loki whispered.

“Me neither,” Tony said, with a sad smile.

They remained like that: close, breathing softly, warmth bursting to life where skin touched skin. Loki leaned in and kissed Tony on the forehead.

“Come,” he said, once he pulled away, helping Tony to his feet. “We have a war to begin.”

* * *

Steve first.

Because, well, he was the strongest, and with war imminent, they needed all the strength they could get. 

Although something within Tony was still screaming at the top of its tiny little lungs, “This is a very very very bad idea!”

“We are going to go now,” Loki announced, first thing when he reappeared back in the kitchen. Everyone (aside from Thor) did a really good job of not staring at him, and pretending not to notice his stiff posture, his still trembling hands, and Loki seemed to appreciate that. “Lest the Chitauri find us. Thor?”

Thor, still staring, raised his hammer. “Aye.”

“You know what I just realized,” Tony said, as they filed out the door and all linked hands like they were in some really, really weird movie about… romance, and… aliens (okay, so his jokes weren’t super on point at the moment). “You’re basically our outer space taxi driver.”

Thor shot him a look that bordered on disgust, before he took off into the air, and landed an instant later outside of Stark Tower.

Loki had put glamours on all of them. So, “This’ll totally, definitely, absolutely go really, really well.”

Everyone glared at him.

“You know what, I bet he isn’t even here,” Tony said, as he unlocked the door and they all entered. 

**Hello, sir. May I say, I am overjoyed to see you again.**

“Whatever you say, J. Just don’t let anyone know that we’re here,” Tony said, before launching back into his rant. “I mean, I know you  _ said _ that he apparently hangs out here all the time with Rhodey and Pepper but, honestly, the chances of that—and what if they’re all here at once? That would be  _ ridiculous. _ I don’t think God loves us  _ quite _ that much.”

“I doubt your ‘god’ loves us very much at all,” Loki commented, as they all stuffed into the elevator. “Or he won’t, once he finds out that he is not the only one. It will be quite a rude awakening, I expect.”

“Don’t tell Steve that,” Clint said.

“And as for your question, Tony, yes, they will all be here at once. Because I heard Steve say that he and Bucky were going to come here today,” Bruce said. “Remember, I was having a perfectly normal day this morning, before you barged in with your phone call and your crazy resurrection and your crazier alien boyfriend.”

Tony slapped him on the back. “You people are gonna be the reason I don’t make it to sixty.”

Then Pepper got in the elevator.

“Floor thirty-nine, please,” she said, her eyes glued to the clipboard that was resting in the crook of her elbow. Her hair was done up in a tight bun and she had on one of her trademark miniskirts. To an outside observer—him—everything about her seemed normal, and mundane.

He cleared his throat, and edged away casually, behind Loki.

Her head popped up. “Hey, I... haven’t seen any of you people before. Would you mind showing some ID? I’m probably just paranoid, but, you know how it is,” she said, with a forced, awkward little laugh.

They all stared at her.

**Miss Potts, each of these individuals provided ID to enter the building, but if you’d like, I can pull it up for you.**

There was a screen on the wall of the elevator, and it flashed brightly with pictures of each of them, and five totally realistic-looking totally-fake entire lives, just plastered there, and thank  _ god _ for Jarvis.

Tony let out a shaky breath.

“See?” he asked, his voice coming out all squeaky, and oh god, had Loki not changed his voice?

But Pepper gave no strange reaction. Instead she smiled thinly, and, when the elevator stopped and gave a  _ ding, _ she said, “Well, see you around,” before stepping out.

Tony watched her walk away until the elevator doors closed and they were alone again.

“Well shit,” he said.

Bruce leaned in to murmur, “She’s okay. She’s honestly been doing okay. And she’ll know you’re okay too, soon enough. She’ll be all right.”

“Remember: war,” Clint said. “The Chitauri are probably attacking some poor, innocent city as we speak.”

“Not ‘probably’. It is a certainty,” Loki said.

“Oh. Well,  _ great. _ That just makes me feel great,” Tony said. “You always know just how to lighten the mood, you know that?”

Loki snorted, and crossed his arms.

Bruce glanced at him, his eyes smiling, and then Clint leaned over and said something in his ear and he burst out laughing.

Tony scowled at them. 

Thor just looked sad.

“Hey bud,” Tony said, poking him in the shoulder. Thor didn’t turn to look at him. “You okay?”

The elevator  _ dinged _ again. The doors rolled open.

Thor didn’t answer, instead he walked right out as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Ooookay then,” Tony muttered.

Loki gave him an absurdly dignified peck on the cheek as he stalked out of the elevator, a knife suddenly in his hand.

They looked ridiculous in Tony's average, boring white tower hallway, with their Viking beards and leather armor and quivers full of poison arrows. If he had a phone, he would have taken a picture. And if he had an actual permanent residence, he would have hung that picture above his bed.

"Where the hell is Steve supposed to be?" Tony hissed in Bruce's ear. "And why would he come here in the first place?"

"We all came here occasionally," Bruce said. "For various reasons. But he—his friend needed a safe place, and I guess Pepper offered him a room. So he lives here."

"Bucky?"

"Yeah. It would be too dangerous for him anywhere else. Even living with Cap."

They turned down another hallway. A light in the ceiling flickered. Tony wasn't sure whether to be offended or smug.

"They would live together?"

"He's Steve's oldest friend. Apparently."

"Why have I never heard of him before now? And why does he have one arm?"

An extremely awkward vibe suddenly filled the air.

"Uh..." Bruce trailed off.

"He was tortured by HYDRA for seventy years," Clint stated, without even a hitch in his step.

Tony's step hitched violently, as did his voice when he said, "What?" because, really, he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Loki's expression was like stone.

"They kept him in a freezer between shifts," Clint muttered. "He was an assassin. Killed all sorts of people: political figures, military, anyone HYDRA dubbed an enemy to their cause, which was basically to eliminate freedom."

Loki's expression was like a stone that had been crushed down into even denser, harder stone.

Clint and Bruce exchanged an unreadable glance.

Tony hated it when they did that.

"Oh. And they tore his arm off and replaced it with a metal one," Clint said. Tony got the sense that if he was the type of guy to shrug, he would have, he said it so nonchalantly.

Oh yeah, Bucky, Steve's very best friend, you know, casually got his arm ripped off by this evil cult-organization. And they tortured him. You know how it is, round here. Everyone getting tortured all the time. Totally normal.

"Where are they?" Loki asked, his tone clipped. "We should make this as brief as possible."

"Bucky's room is on this floor somewhere," Bruce said, his glasses in the process of slipping down his nose.

They turned another corner.

"Here. One of these," Bruce said. He knocked on a random door. Nothing.

"So you're just gonna knock on all these doors until you find the right one?" Tony asked. "That's really, really stupid. J, which one is Steve or Bucky's room?"

"Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes currently occupy the same room, sir. Room 81b."

"Saucy," Tony muttered. Because he truly, honestly, couldn't think of anything helpful to say.

Loki shot him That Look, that look that so clearly said, _ "You are an actual idiot and I have no idea why I put up with you—oh, wait, it's because you're so badass and sexy. Don’t know how I forgot that." _

At least, that was how Tony chose to interpret it. Other people may have seen it as a look of purest loathing. But hey, Tony was trying to be optimistic here.

And then he strode right up to the door of 81b and knocked on it, because who needs plans? Plans are for losers. Improvising is how it's done.

He said that out loud.

Loki sent him That Look again. And Clint gave a pretty good attempt, although it didn't quite manage to chill his very blood in the same way, or inspire the same mortal terror.

"Stop that," Tony said.

"What?" Loki asked, all innocent.

Tony looked aside to see that Bruce was watching them fondly, but almost seeming quite amused. Damn. He kept forgetting that it wasn't just Loki and him anymore.

The door opened.

"Hi?" said Steve.

Steve with a fucking bedhead.

Wearing fucking PJs.

"Huh-hi," Tony stammered. He fucking stammered.

"Hello," Loki stepped forward, extended a hand, smooth as a skating rink. "Friends of Tony's. May we come in?"

_ Despite how it seems, he only blames you because he loves you,  _ Clint had said.  _ Which is totally stupid, I know. But you should bring yourself up. Casually mention that you're missing. So it doesn't come quite so out-of-the-blue when the glamour drops and you suddenly appear in his bedroom. He's not the biggest fan of surprises. _

"Info on Tony," Tony said. "We have... the scoop."

"News," Bruce said.

Clint and Thor were both silent, staring at them.

Steve was staring too. "Oh my god. Did you find him?" he grabbed Loki's shoulders and kind of shook him, and Tony would have been angry about that if he hadn't been freaking out over the fact that Captain do-good just took the Lord's name in vain. "Where is he? You found him?"

Loki smiled snakily, disentangled himself from Steve's grip and slid past him into the room. Which should have been impossible, because Steve was practically taking up the whole doorway. "You could say that."

Steve grabbed Loki’s wrist—“Tell me what  _ happened.” _ —and it was obviously just an accident, a body memory, but Loki flinched, and well, Tony couldn’t stop himself from barging in there and ripping Steve’s hand off him.

“Close the damn door,” he said. He heard it shut. “And Jarvis, no one sees in here. Hey,” he put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, “Just drop mine for now, okay?”

(Plans? Who needs plans?)

Loki shot him an unreadable glance, and Steve opened his mouth to say something, but then Tony felt something shift, and Steve lurched backwards as if Tony was on fire.

“My god.”

“Not quite, but you can worship me if you want to,” Tony said, adjusting his cuff, straightening his shoulders, flashing his billionaire smile.

It didn’t work.

Because before he could so much as say “fuck”, an handgun was pointed straight between his eyes.

“What the hell is this?” Steve barked. He took a step back, swiveling to point the gun at each of them in turn. “What the hell is going on?”

Steve’s eyes locked onto Tony’s again, full of actual human emotions: fear and disbelief and panic and uncertainty and Tony didn’t quite know how to process that.

“My god,” Steve said, again. “ _ Bucky! _ Get your ass in here! We’ve got intruders in our room!”

That was when Tony moved.

Quick as a snake (at least, he would like to think so) without pausing to think, to consider that perhaps he was the last person in this room who should be attempting to wrench the gun from Steve’s hands, who should be trying to tackle him to the floor.

But hey.

Poor planning skills were quickly becoming his forte.

And, anyway, it wasn’t like he was alone—in an instant, one of Clint’s arrows was aimed at Cap’s forehead, and Loki had his knife in his hand, and Thor looked ready to summon lightning, the sky, and all the damned planets that were in it.

Bruce, on the other hand…

Looked totally calm. 

For now.

So Tony would have let out a sigh of relief, if he wasn’t currently tangled up in 180 pounds of pure muscle, and failing miserably at wriggling out of the headlock Steve had him in.

“Put that gun down!” he yelled at the One-Armed Dude who had just whipped out a handgun and aimed it at his face. As if he was in any position to be giving orders.

He stuck his hand in his pocket, fumbling around for his repulsor, because everyone else seemed reluctant to try attacking Steve when he had Tony in a choke-hold. And was grunting like a goddamn pig. And squeezing.

“Urlgh....” Tony said, as his air supply was cut off. He snapped the repulsor onto his hand and slapped it against the side of Steve’s head. “Let me go or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Everyone froze.

“Do as he says,” Loki said, slowly, as if Steve was a kindergartener. “Or he  _ will _ kill you, and I will slice apart your body with this knife.”

“Who the hell are you people?” Steve demanded, loosening his grip a fraction but still not letting go of Tony. “ _ Tell me _ what is going on. Where’s Loki? How did  _ you _ get here?”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose.

Clint and the One-Armed Dude were both aiming deadly projectiles at each other.

Bruce’s glasses were still sliding down his nose.

“Should we…” Tony trailed off.

“Unadvisable,” Loki said. “Someone will get killed.”

“Not necessarily.”

“He started choking you without even listening to what you had to say,” Loki nodded at Steve, who glared at him. “I doubt he is in any state to comprehend rational negotiation. If he sees me, he will shoot me.”

“See you?” Steve said. “I can see you just fine, you overweight… blackbeard.”

“Funny,” Loki said, in a voice dripping with contempt. “Tony, are you all right?”

“Yeah. I can breathe. Mostly.”

“Good. Then say something.”

“Uh…” Tony racked his brain. “We come in peace? I swear?”

Steve growled in his ear.

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Tony threw up his hands. “I actually do promise not to kill you. Unless you attack any of my friends. But it’s  _ me, _ Cap. It’s Tony!”

“You looked like a woman a few minutes ago.”

“Well… I can’t deny that. But just, don’t… fucking… I dunno. Maybe stop choking me so I can explain. Which, I understand if you’re into that, but I’m really not at the moment. And definitely not with you. It’s really—this whole situation is nonconsensual, I might have to report you for this.”

Steve growled again. But he did let Tony go.

And the entire room seemed to lose at least a fraction of its tension.

Or maybe that was just Loki, whose shoulders relaxed instantly, and who strode over to Tony and started feeling his neck, gently, probably checking if he was injured. Which he must be, because it did hurt, so Tony pushed (slapped) his hand away. “I’m good. Remember: we’ve got a megalomaniac to handle.” He glared at Steve. 

“Steve,” One-Armed Dude said, warningly, his gun still pointed at Clint’s head. 

“Tony,” Clint said, from between gritted teeth, his arrow ready to impale One-Armed Dude in the face.

“Well, obviously, he’s only gonna lower his arrow if One-Armed Dude lowers his gun,” Tony said, reasonably, to Steve. “So, I’d say we’re at an impasse. Now, I’m about to appeal to your sense of honor and justice. Ready?”

Everyone glared at him.

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Tony threw up his hands, took a step back (towards Loki. But only to check that he was okay, of course. Not because Loki had epic badass magic powers and all Tony had was a repulsor strapped to his palm. No way, jose.)

“I’m just  _ saying _ that you really should give your ‘ole friend the benefit of the doubt. And at least a chance to explain himself.”

“Loki  _ brainwashed  _ you!” Steve cried. “How can you be here?”

“That’s what I would  _ tell _ you if you would just listen to me!”

“You broke into our room, looking like a woman, with a posse of people I’ve never met—”

“During nachos,” One-Armed Dude interrupted. His face was like a cake made of anger and focus and smiley-faces leeched of all their happiness until they’re just creepy. Although, Tony had to admit, his hair was quite good.

Nachos?

Tony could make a pun out of that.

Oh, he could  _ so _ easily make a pun out of that.

Luckily, Bruce interrupted him before he got the chance. “I really think everyone should just calm down. I think calmness would be a really, really good idea right now.”

Tony grabbed Loki’s arm as a random burst of an instinctive, primal fear for his life/adrenaline rush ran straight through his entire body like an Olympic sprinter, and “Nnoohhhh goddd,” he said, because what else could you say when confronted by Bruce’s wide, bloodshot, saucer-like green eyes?

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve demanded, grabbing Loki’s other arm. Loki hissed as if it hurt (which was likely, because Steve gave borderline abusive handshakes), and snatched his arm away.

“Calm down, Steve,” Tony said, in the least calm voice ever. “Everybody calm the fuck down!”

“Get out,” Clint said, to Bruce.

“No, no, I can fight it—”

“Get  _ out!” _ Clint and Tony both barked at him.

Thor grabbed Bruce, whipped his hammer around in the air, and jumped through the open window. They all watched in dumb silence as he flew out of sight.

When Tony turned back around, Steve’s gun was aimed at his head again. “Explain. You’ll explain everything right now or I shoot you. Who was that?”

Loki waved a hand. Clint’s glamour dropped. 

Steve glanced at him for a fraction of a second, before his eyes snapped back to Tony. “Who was  _ that?” _

“Thor.”

“How do I know that these aren’t just more illusions? How do I know  _ you _ aren’t an illusion? And who  _ made _ the illusions? And who’s  _ that?” _ he jerked the gun towards Loki.

All valid questions.

“Uh,” Tony said.

No one spoke for much too long. It became awkward.

And then Loki shrugged, and waved a hand, and something  _ shifted,  _ and Tony was damn sure that Loki would have been shot in the head if he hadn’t reached out lightning quick and snatched the gun from Steve’s hand. “Me,” he said, raising his arms.

Steve punched him in the face.

“Woah, woah hold on, hold up—”

_ “Steve!  _ Should I shoot them?”

“If you shoot  _ anyone _ you’ll find yourself with a poison arrow sticking out of your butt!”

Loki grabbed Steve’s arm and twisted it. Steve groaned, but then he kicked Loki’s legs out from under him and Loki started to fall—

Tony grabbed Steve’s arm. “He’s not bad, he’s not bad, don’t hurt him!”

Loki didn’t fall because he hung mercilessly onto Steve’s neck, which caused him to lose his balance and lurch forward.

“Oh fuck,” Tony said. “God. Loki!”

Steve’s body mass would have crushed Loki if Loki hadn’t quickly rolled out of the way. And once he had rolled out of the way, he quickly brought the blade of his knife to Steve’s neck.

No one moved.

“He’s good, Steve. I’m not brainwashed. He was… he was coerced, by this guy named Thanos, and that guy forced him to attack New York—there’s proof, I can show you, all kinds of proof—it wasn’t his fault—”

Loki, breathing heavily, glanced up at Tony.

Which gave Steve just enough time to clock him in the jaw, and Loki crashed back into the wall—

“Loki!”

And Tony didn’t know what to  _ do, _ because all he had was his repulsor, and it wasn’t like he could shoot Steve—that was no way to get him to trust them—but he couldn’t just let Steve beat up Loki either…

Luckily, Loki was more than capable of fighting back, and he demonstrated this when he dealt Steve a glorious kick to the stomach, that had him doubling over and making a sound like a balloon losing air.

Tony grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him, but Steve barely budged. “Steve, listen to me! We need you, the Chitauri are back and they’re going to invade earth, we need you to help us stop them—”

“It is, indeed,” Loki said, clutching his face. “A grave threat.” He collapsed back against the wall, one elbow resting on his knee, a knife in each hand, his face looking vaguely red where Steve had hit him—Steve had  _ hit  _ him, Loki had gotten hurt—

“Loki! Loki, are you—”

And Steve lunged for him, would have headbutted him if Loki hadn’t ducked and elbowed him in the stomach—

Holy shit—

“Stop!” Tony cried, pressing the repulsor to Steve’s head, but Steve pushed him aside like he was a three-hundred pound dumbbell—easily—and Tony fell back right on his ass, making a strangled noise that was halfway between “ow,” and a scream.

“Tony!” Clint cried.

Tony glanced at him, and at One-Armed Dude, and at the way they were effectively canceling each other out, and groaned.

Was he gonna have to shoot Steve?

Was he  _ really _ gonna have to do that?

In the… in the chest, maybe? Or the leg? Although, with his luck, Steve would just pop up, say “Tis merely a flesh wound,” and punch Loki in the head—

Which was something that he had just done, and Loki went reeling backwards—

And…

_ No, no, Lokes… not  _ now,  _ please… _

Suddenly it was like all the fight went out of him. Loki went limp, huddled against the wall, not even trying to defend himself, arms up there above his head, knees pulled up to his chest, and all Tony could see was his black hair and the way his whole body jerked as Steve punched him in the shoulder and the chest and the head and—

Tony shot him in the back.

Steve’s body seized up. Ever so slowly, he fell backwards—Tony had a sudden urge to yell “timber!” but resisted it—and collapsed down on the ground, sprawled out, chest heaving, eyes wide before jerkily slamming shut.

Tony kicked him in the side. “Fuck you.”

One-Armed Dude put down his gun, hands up, and stepped away.

Tony ran to Loki, and knelt down, cautiously pushed down the hands that had still been up protecting his head, lifted his chest, cupped his cheek. Hey, hey, it’s just me. Hey,  _ elksan, _ now would be a really good time to snap out of it,”

Scared, scared eyes…

Watering eyes…

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s voice was almost a whisper. But he grabbed Tony’s hand and gripped it tightly, so that was a good sign, right? “I don’t know… I thought I was back…”

Tony nodded sadly. “Yeah. That’s okay. You did great. We got him.”

Loki peeked over Tony’s shoulder. “Shot him.”

“Well, yeah. But he wasn’t really listening and he just kept attacking you so I couldn’t really do anything else.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

Clint and One-Armed Dude had taken a few steps closer. One-Armed Dude had an arrow pointed at his head, but other than that they looked eerily similar, both trying their very best to remain expressionless, but the tiniest amount of emotion still leaking through. In Clint’s case, it was concern. As for One-Armed Dude… some kind of morbid curiosity?

“What happened to him?” One-Armed Dude asked.

“Okay,  _ okay, _ this is ridiculous. First,  _ you,” _ Tony jabbed a finger at One-Armed Dude. “Are not in any position to be asking prying questions. In fact,  _ you _ should probably just go in the corner and have a time-out.”

“I don’t even know you people,” One-Armed Dude growled. A piece of dark hair fell in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, join the party,” Tony mumbled. “Or whatever. Corner, now,” he snapped his fingers.

Clint pointed his arrow at One-Armed Dude. “You heard the man.”

One-Armed Dude stared at them both. Then, slowly, and as obnoxiously as possible, he raised his hands and practically sauntered over to the corner and leaned against it with his arms crossed, glowering. Hair still in his face.

“You okay?” Tony asked, again, because Loki still hadn’t gotten up.. He touched a bright red mark on Loki’s face with his knuckles, and brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. Leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

Loki stiffened. “I’m not a china doll,” he said, and pushed Tony away, anger flashing in his eyes.

Tony blinked.

And offered his hand, as Loki made to stand up, but he ignored it and did it himself, leaning heavily against the wall, chest heaving.

“Sorry…” Tony trailed off. He wasn’t sure that Loki had even heard him.

But Loki must have, because he paused, put a hand to his forehead, and then let out a sigh, dropping that same hand so that it brushed against Tony’s.

Well… okay, then.

Barton and One-Armed Dude were both looking at them.

Loki straightened, cleared his throat. “Well? Exactly what are you two looking at?”

He was a fearsome sight—knives drawn, face all fucked up, crazy eyes—and, wisely, the two kept silent.

“What about him,” Barton said, jabbing an arrow towards One-Armed Dude. 

“Oh…” Loki trailed off. “Just knock him unconscious, I suppose.”

One-Armed Dude stiffened.

“Unless you were to join us?” Loki asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah. We’re on a valiant quest to save earth,” Tony said. “And you seem tough. I dunno. What does the arm do?”

One-Armed Dude scowled. “Nothing.”

“Mm _ hmm.” _

One-Armed Dude seemed to reconsider. “Well. It can throw things. And shoot people. If it has to.”

“ _ Weirdo,” _ Tony hissed in Loki’s ear.

“He’s an assassin,” Barton said.

Loki stalked up to One-Armed Dude, leaned down to glare right in his eyes. “Oh, really.  _ Interesting. _ Experienced?”

“You could say so,” One-Armed Dude said, looking nervous. 

“Indeed I can,” Loki murmured. “However, actions speak louder than words.”

He lashed out with a knife, aimed straight for One-Armed Dude’s side, but One-Armed Dude was ready for him and grabbed his arm, twisted it—Loki hissed—

Tony brought the repulsor to One-Armed Dude’s head. “That’s enough.”

Loki shoved Tony away with his foot—Tony fell right on his ass  _ again _ —and lunged, sending One-Armed Dude crashing to the ground, Loki’s hand on his neck, his knee in his stomach, pinning him to the floor.

“Urgh,” One-Armed Dude said, and spit a strand of hair out of his mouth.

“Don’t feel bad,” Barton said. “He has at least a thousand years on you.”

“No,  _ feel bad,” _ Loki said. “Your efforts were laughable. I was merely  _ humoring  _ you.”

One-Armed Dude spat in Loki’s face.

And Loki grinned. 

“I daresay, I’m growing quite fond of you.”

One-Armed Dude stared, wide-eyed at Loki, who still hadn’t bothered to wipe the spit away, and who was climbing off of him, and standing up, and extending a hand to help him up.

“Short version—” Tony began.

_ “Short version,” _ Loki interrupted him. “Is: I am  _ not _ evil—”

“For the most part,” Tony muttered.

“—Thanos  _ is _ about to wage war on your miserable planet, and you  _ should _ join us if you know what is good for you. You seem physically fit enough to aid us in murdering him and his filthy army of cowardly, fetid scum. And much more reasonable than  _ he _ was,” Loki jabbed a disdainful finger in Steve’s direction.

“The hell… are you talking about?” One-Armed Dude managed to choke out, from a mouth that was very clearly filled with blood. His teeth were stained with it. 

Loki leaned in close to him, grabbed a chunk of his hair and  _ yanks  _ his head back. One-Armed-Dude’s eyes are wide, the whites of them showing. 

“I was  _ forced,”  _ Loki hissed in his ear. “My actions… were not my own. Not my fault. I was forced, just as you were. For the longest time, I thought no one would believe me, but  _ they  _ do.” Tony hoped that, maybe, Loki truly believed what he was saying, and was not just saying it to get One-Armed-Dude to join their side.

One-Armed-Dude’s throat moved as he swallowed hard. His eyes, which had been darting wildly around the place only a moment before, were now fixed solely on Loki, focused. He was actually listening.

“If you come with use, you could be a hero. People would praise you, see you as more than their expectations. You could be redeemed,” Loki said.

“Don’t… want… redemption,” OAD spit out, eyes narrowed to furious slits. He jerked to life once more, writhing in Loki’s grip, and eventually broke free, stumbling back against the wall.

Loki raised his hands quickly, the pose one would assume, perhaps, when attempting to calm a mad dog. “Then come with us just to do some  _ good.  _ To save people, instead of hurting them.”

OAD swallowed again, his eyes going to each of them in turn. 

“Fine,” he said, gruffly. He glanced at Tony, eyes narrowing, chest heaving. “But you’ll have to call me ‘Bucky’ instead of ‘One-Armed-Dude’.”

“Deal,” Tony said, and held out his hand.

Bucky took it with his metal arm.

* * *

Bruce was fine.

Naked, but fine.

And Loki tossed him a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, fresh out of his pocket dimension, so that problem was fixed pretty quickly. Thank god.

"He really, really, really wanted to go in and 'save Tin Man," Thor said, amusement clear in his voice.

"And puny god," Bruce added.

Loki smiled cautiously.

Bruce picked at the sleeve of his shirt. "This yours?"

"Yes," Loki said. "Well, it is Tony's actually, but I have worn it."

"...huh."

Awkward silence.

"Now what?" Clint asked.

Loki shrugged.

And Tony was trying to fight off a needling, guilty little piece of disappointment that was hunkering down in the back of his mind like a rat, chewing on his brain—disappointment that he hadn't gotten to talk to Pepper, to Rhodey, to Happy.

He should have talked to Pepper.

Pepper would have understood. Right?

Why hadn't he at least talked to Pepper?

“Tony,” Loki murmured, squeezing his hand. “There will be time, once this is over.”

“Yeah… wait, how’d you know what I was thinking?”

“Mortal emotions,” Loki said, smiling softly. “Easy to read.”

“Cut it out,” Clint said, arrow pointed between them (Bucky, who hadn’t spoken up yet since they left the Tower, flinched a bit when Clint pulled the arrow from his quiver). “Like he said: there’s plenty of time for  _ that _ later, too. Aren’t we supposed to be killing Thanos?”

The Chitauri came out of nowhere.

And Tony’s first thought was  _ ohshit they were probably monitoringtheTower whythe hell didn’t we thinkofthat ugh we’resofuckingdumb  _ before they were surrounded and  _ god _ —everyone was fighting, Thor called down lightning from the sky and Clint shot a poison arrow into an unlucky Chitauri’s jugular and Bucky pulled one of their heads off with his  _ flesh  _ arm and it was so fucking loud—and he caught the suitcase that Loki tossed to him but he had to fucking hop around and put on all the metal pieces--

Luckily, he still had the repulsor on his hand, and he used it.

But, unluckily—or maybe luckily?—something that vaguely resembled a shooting star on steroids swooped down from the roof of the tower and landed with a metallic  _ thud, _ on one knee, in the center of them all.

Silver…

Oh, shit.

_ Rhodey. _

* * *

The Chitauri were easy to kill. Spin, shoot, dead. Scream, almost trip, shoot awkwardly, dead. Which definitely would have made Tony a lot more confident about the impending battle if he hadn’t been too busy focusing on  _ Rhodey _ who was standing  _ right there  _ and—

Helping them, and shooting the Chitauri instead of shooting Loki, which was a good sign. All good signs. But still. Rhodey.

A few minutes later, the Chitauri were nothing more than ten corpses strewn about, insectoid limbs hanging at unnatural angles, grass stained with black blood.

Loki was muttering to himself, poking at their bodies. He pulled a Chitauri’s gun out of its holster and fiddled with it, completely ignoring Rhodey.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, taking a step towards him.

“Should we…?” Thor offered, raising his hammer, holding out his hand.

“Uh… no,” Tony said, making a split-second decision. “Nope. We’ll stay here, in this weird fucking field—why is there a field in the middle of New York? Where the hell are we? How haven’t SHIELD found us yet? Loki was using magic—this makes no sense. We have to stay and figure these things out.”

“SHIELD will find us,” Loki said. “Soon.” He stuck a finger in the gun’s barrel. And licked it.

Rhodey lowered his face plate with an empty sounding clang. “Tony?”

“Uh…” Tony said.

God fucking damn, this was awkward.

Loki glanced up casually. “Ah.” And looked back down again.

Tony would have wondered why Loki wasn’t more fucking  _ worried _ about the fact that Rhodey was here—until he realized that, compared to himself, a thunder god, a rage monster, and a supersoldier (sorry, Clint) Rhodey really wasn’t much of a threat.

And Loki had probably cast protection spells over all of them once the Chitauri attacked, anyway.

So it looked like Tony was gonna have to handle this awkward situation by himself.

“Rhodey—” he began. “Uh…”

Then he shrugged. “You know what, forget it. Thor, let’s just go.”

“Oh, hell no, Tony, you are  _ not _ going anywhere, I am  _ not _ letting him take you.” Rhodey stuck out an arm and shot Loki in the face.

Or tried to.

The beam bounced off into the grass, and left a sizzling scorch mark, and a thin tendril of smoke rose up into the air. Loki glanced down at it, oh-so-very casually, as if it was nothing but a twig or a particularly uninteresting ladybug, before going back to poking at the gun. 

“Thor,” Tony said.

“Uh, we’re just gonna…?” Bruce started.

“Yeah,” Tony said.

Rhodey took another step towards him. Cautiously, as if he was walking on ice. His arms were at his sides, face open and vulnerable— _ emotions _ in his eyes. Ick. 

“Loki,” Tony said. They had all linked hands (which was still horrendously cheesy and made him feel like an idiot, but whatever) except for Loki, who had finally looked up and was eyeing Rhodey as if he were a speck of dirt on his shoe.

Rhodey glanced between Loki and Tony, looking lost.

“Come on,” Tony said. “He tried to shoot you.”

“Only because he is confused, I imagine,” Loki murmured. “You mortals do get confused so easily.”

Rhodey was covering his mouth now, with one hand, staring at Loki, horror dawning upon horror upon probably horrific realizations—Tony could read his eyes as if they were open books.

He hated it.

“Come  _ on,” _ Tony said, because if he didn’t leave now he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from  _ staying, _ from trying his damndest to convince Rhodey to come with them.

But the longer they stayed here, the more danger they were in.

“The Chitauri will come back,” Clint said. “In droves.”

That seemed to get to Loki. He stiffened, crossed his arms.

“Colonel Rhodes,” he said, stepping up to Rhodey, who remained still.  _ So _ still. Completely frozen, and didn’t even react when Loki touched his face. “You don’t remember seeing us here. And when Rogers tries to convince you that we were present, you will do everything you can to convince  _ him  _ that he is wrong, and just had a nightmare.”

“Loki…” Thor trailed off. “You shouldn’t do this.”

Loki whirled on him. “And what else am I to do,  _ Thor? _ Let him run off and tell the world that we were here?”

Thor shook his head. “No. But all I’m saying is that now may not be the best time to… practice mind control.”

“Shit—god, Thor,” Tony said, pulling his hand out of Bruce’s to perform a sort of half-facepalm.

“In my opinion, he can mind-control anybody he wants as long as it’s for a good cause,” Clint said. “It won’t make us start to distrust him. We’re not idiots.”

Bruce didn’t speak. He was fiddling with his glasses, cleaning them with his sleeve.

But Loki—Loki’s eyes flashed with anger an instant before it was all smothered by that careful mask, and he straightened, and huffed, and clenched his fists. “Fine, then,  _ brother.”  _ Something broke in his voice on that word. “What would you propose I do? I can kill him, if you’d prefer that. I can cripple him and leave him here. Teleport him off to Jotunheim and let him die alone in the cold. Would you prefer that?”

“No—”

“Then  _ shut up!” _ Loki yelled. He spun on his heel, and jabbed his fingers against Rhodey’s temples. He muttered something, and Rhodey’s eyes rolled back in his head. Loki caught him, and then, as if he had decided it was too much trouble, he dropped him and let him land in a heap on the ground.

“You could have just—whatever,” Tony said. 

He held out his hand towards Loki, and Loki stalked over and grabbed it.

“He’ll be okay. Right?”

Loki glanced disdainfully at Rhodey. “He will awaken as soon as we depart.”

“And… are you okay?” Tony asked, softly.

“ _ Stop,” _ Loki said, in a voice laced with bitterness..

And for what had to be the thousandth time, they were caught up in a column of fire and lightning and swept into the sky as if the nozzle of a huge vacuum cleaner had just descended from the heavens and sucked them up.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, nearly as soon as they landed. He didn’t let go of Tony’s hand. His eyes were anxious, desperate. “I’m sorry—shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I  _ am _ all right.”

Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Come over here with me,” he said.

They walked a short distance from the others, who were all milling around like confused cattle.

“You can tell me if I’ve done something to make you angry,” Tony said. 

“But…” Loki bit his lip. 

“You won’t drive me away, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The way Loki’s eyes narrowed told Tony that he wasn’t the only one who could read emotions.

“Couples fight, Loki. It’s fine. And, besides that, I wouldn’t want to inadvertently hurt you in any way. Have I?”

“No,” Loki said, warily. “Just… I’d like it if you’d stop treating me like glass. In front of them,” he nodded towards the herd.

Well, Tony’d thought that he had been doing a good job of that. But… apparently not.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s fine.”

Loki allowed a small smile. “I’m not angry at you, by the way. I know you were just trying to help. I’m  _ not _ all right, but I doubt I’m the only one.”

“Definitely not, I think. But, Loki, if you ever  _ are _ angry, or if I ever do something wrong, you can go ahead and tell me. I don’t mind. I  _ want _ you to tell me.”

Loki nodded. “I know.”

“There’s a war to fight, an asshole to murder—”

“Communication is key,” Loki said. “I know. We will only get one chance.”

Tony’s wandering, frantic thoughts filled the silence.

“When this is over—” Loki’s expression filled with a sudden eagerness, and he squeezed Tony’s hands. But he didn’t finish the sentence.

Tony kissed him.

“Yeah.  _ Yes.” _

* * *

Loki was a general, commanding his troops.

They stood in a line, and he paced in front of them, deadly, serious, and strong, with his hands laced behind his back. 

Nothing like glass, not like glass at all.

And Tony could see the confidence there, radiating through him—and he realized that wasn’t something he had often seen in him, but it suited him well.

“There’s not much time,” Loki said. “The Chitauri are stationed all throughout earth. They have technology that keeps them hidden. But as soon as we arrive on Thanos’ planet, he will be able to sense us. He will order his Chitauri to attack this planet. We will have to kill him  _ quickly.” _

He sucked in a breath, pivoted, and began to pace in the other direction.

“However, I will be able to sense him, too. I will lead you to him. And if any of you get a clear shot, take it. No questions, no hesitation. Got it?”

Loki stopped pacing, turned to look at them.

“Aye.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Got it.”

“Then we will go. No time to waste. People may be dying as we speak. All of you must lay a hand on me. I will take us to him through the Mind Link.”

“Now?” Bruce asked.

“Now,” Loki said.

Tony was the first to move.

He walked up to Loki and took his hand.

Because  _ this _ was what he and Tony had been working towards, ever since Tony discovered just  _ who _ had burned that word into his chest. 

A monster.

_ Thanos _ was a monster who didn’t deserve to take another breath, who didn’t deserve to live for another  _ instant. _

And sure, he was a madman, who had attacked earth and was planning to do it again. But the real reason Tony wanted him dead, and wanted him to die slowly and in pain, bleeding out onto the dirt of his own foul planet, was for what he had done to  _ Loki. _

Tony may no longer be an ‘Avenger’, but he would always,  _ always _ avenge those he loved.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Loki smiled at him, and something passed between them—the knowledge that even if no one else stepped forward, they would still go, and they would still try, together— _ together, _ because all they needed was each other.

And Tony was not about to let some dipshit purple alien tear them apart.

But the others did step forward.

Thor put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki didn’t flinch.

Clint grabbed Loki’s other hand.

Bruce took hold of his left sleeve, Bucky his right.

Tony leaned in and kissed him.

* * *

Loki stood on the precipice.

And jumped.

_ Down, down, down into darkness. Stars flew past like silver bullets, and he reached out for them but they were too far to grab onto, everything was too far, too far. He would never see the light of day again. _

Darkness.

_ “Norns,” _ he spoke, into the black.  _ “I would advise you to watch.” _

Dimly, somewhere, he felt Tony’s lips on his.

And  _ there _ it was, lurking in the dark. The Link. But it was not the predator, waiting for its unwilling prey—no,  _ Loki _ was the predator, the hungry beast, and all things would cower before him.

Revenge was like a drug, electricity in his veins, bringing him to life.

He reached out for the Link and filled it, magic pouring through it, until it lit up the dark like a newborn star. 

_ “You no longer control me,” _ he said to it.  _ “In fact, if you had a voice, you should be screaming for mercy.”  _

Brighter, brighter. A firework, a flame.

_ “But mercy is something I will not give.” _

All of him, everything—brighter, brighter, searching.

_ There _ he was.

A looming presence. Familiar presence. But Loki felt no fear. Not here.

Then he dove.

And everything plummeted down with him, down into the depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you couldn't tell, but in the original version of this chapter Bucky didn't join them - which was a tragedy and I obviously had to fix it, but when editing I kept writing in present tense because I used to that now, and I couldn't STOP, so if there are any awkward switches in tense anywhere... well, you know why, lol. I tried to catch 'em all, but I also edited this chapter really quickly, so I probably missed a few.  
> ANYWAY, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment! I promise I'll read it :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOWDOWN TIME

It smelled like ash.

Loki shivered. Opened his eyes.

“Tony,” he said, without thinking, without hesitating, because he needed Tony. Always needed him. Loki was so useless, couldn’t see straight here, couldn’t breathe here, couldn’t  _ work right, _ not here, always needed Tony— 

“Hey,” Tony said, grabbed his hand, his sleeve, tightly, body pressed close. “Hey, come on, it’s okay. We’re all right here.”

But that was exactly what Loki  _ didn’t _ want. He could feel the panic growing, because— _ rocks, and ash, and shrifting, twisting ropes of smoke, curling through the air, and familiar, familiar, closing in— _ he was  _ back _ here, and he didn’t know how to breathe right when he was here, but he didn’t want  _ them _ to see.

“Breathe,” Banner said, hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

Loki breathed. And then he shuddered, revulsion at this display of weakness— 

“It’s fine, man,” Barton said. “No one’s judging you. If anyone were to judge you, I would impale them with an arrow, right here, right now, right through the heart.”

Loki stuttered out a feeble laugh.

But then Thor decided that he wanted a turn, and slapped a meaty hand down on Loki’s shoulder. “Brother—”

“Let go!” Loki cried, turning into a snarling, raging thing, wrenching out of Thor’s grip and even away from Tony. He crossed his arms, he wished he could disappear, his heart was  _ hammering— _ “There is no time, no time for this—we have to  _ go, _ we have to go, quickly—”

“But you have to calm down, first,” Barton said, in his most expressionless voice. “We need you.”

“I am  _ calm. _ I am fine.” Loki closed his eyes, reached out, and out, and out with his  _ seidr, _ searching like a rat scampering through the moldy floorboards of an abandoned shed, sniffing out shit.

“It’s okay to not be fine,” he distantly heard Barnes say, soft and monotone. Loki’s eye twitched in irritation—he found himself strangely torn between yelling at the man for distracting him, and finding some way to comfort him, ease the pain in his voice. There was something about Barnes that reminded Loki deeply of himself, and he did not know how to feel about that.

So instead he simply went back to reaching out with his  _ seidr,  _ concentrating deeply until he found the direction they must go.

“This way,” he said, pointing towards a ridge of fiery, cracked earth. “We will not teleport. It is not far. The less magic I use, the less he will be aware of our position.” Because, only about twenty minutes earlier, Loki had found the time to step away from the group and leave ten scars in his skin, in a perfect straight line like a ladder scaling his forearm.

And sure, healing his body called his magic away—he wouldn’t be as strong, but he could  _ force _ it. 

It would tire him. It would hurt him. May even end up killing him.  _ It would be worth it. _

Not that he wanted to die. But he would, if that was what it took. 

To kill Thanos.

To save Midgard.

To save  _ Tony, _ most of all.

Tony. The one good thing he had left. The one  _ person _ he had left. Kind, wonderful, beautiful Tony who kissed him when he didn’t have to, who held him close at night, who dried his tears—who told him that he deserved the world…

Loki pulled Tony close and kissed him. A desperate, too-warm kiss that smelled of ash. And Tony kissed him back, like the miracle that he was, hands tangled in his hair, soft noises in his throat.

“Don’t die,” Loki said, voice hoarse. He didn’t care that the others could hear him. 

Tony smiled and grabbed tightly to his sleeve. “Only if you don’t.”

They began to walk, hand in hand, ahead of the others, who trailed behind them. They must have made a sorry sight. This mismatched, piteous excuse for an army, Midgard’s only army, crossing the whole universe in an attempt to kill the Mad Titan, the most powerful being in the Nine Realms.

And the Chitauri were on them.

In droves. In a swarm of buzzing insects; feral teeth flashing white, limbs splayed with thorn-like fingers tight around guns and knives and swords.

Loki could feel himself panicking, because it was  _ too familiar, too much, too much, he couldn’t breathe  _ but that didn’t matter because  _ Tony _ was in danger, even through his suit he could get hurt, and so Loki whirled and flung his knives and bursts of magic, cutting the Chitauri down one after the other.

And when he was done, he realized that alongside the churning anxiety in his gut was the exhilaration of revenge.

“After you,” Tony said, stepping aside with a smile, gesturing towards the next hallway, through which Loki could hear the sound of many footsteps—Chitauri running towards them.

With a feral, animalistic glint in his eye, and his teeth bared, he prowled past Tony and into the fray.

* * *

He understood, finally, why Thor thought battle such a glorious thing.

The pained screeches of his enemies falling, the blood and the gore and the  _ satisfaction, _ oh, it was everything he had ever dreamed of.

A Chitauri fell, and he hacked off all four of its limbs with magic, for no reason other than that he  _ could _ . Tony laughed when he did it, but Loki knew that Tony was not laughing at him, but was laughing with him. And the same exhilaration, the save savage thrill of the chase, was evident in his voice, as well.

He stabbed them in the eyes. He killed them  _ slowly. _

They died easily.

And then they were through, into the next room, and he recognized this one—crumbling walls, that patch of scorched earth, red light streaming in through the broken ceiling. Loki did not hesitate; instead he walked right in, spun and impaled two Chitauri on his dagger with a cry of vicious laughter.

Now Tony was trailing behind him, with a grin on his face, just watching as Loki killed them, occasionally finishing one off with an energy blast.

Loki stabbed one in the stomach. He cackled as it squirmed, as it hissed in pain, feeling no remorse because  _ every _ Chitauri was a monster, and they all deserved to die.

Blood flowed in a river.

Loki plunged the blade in deeper. The Chitauri shrieked. It shook. Its organs failed. Its body shut down. Its eyes stared, wide and unblinking into the dark.

Loki pulled his blade out and let it drop to the ground. He wiped the blade clean on his shirt. The whole room now smelled like the dead Chitauri. Sour, stinging his nostrils. They were repulsive.

When he looked back, Tony was not there.

“Tony?” he asked, spinning in a circle. The Chitauri were slowly surrounding him, creeping out of the dark, but he didn’t care. “Tony!” he cried, throwing out an arm to support himself against the wall because the whole room seemed to sway. “Tony! Where are you? Tony!”

A Chitauri lunged at him and he let out a yell of rage, stabbing it in the heart. He pushed his way through the approaching throng and began to  _ run— _ “Tony!  _ Tony, _ where are you?”  _ Please come back, I need you, I—  _

_ Can’t breathe—  _

But that didn’t matter. What was oxygen, anyway, when Tony was gone?

Loki turned back to the Chitauri that had surrounded him with fists clenched, eyes flashing.

He showed no mercy.

He cut them down coldly, unfeelingly. There was no more exhilaration, no more pleasure taken from his revenge, not while Tony was gone.

He grabbed the last one by the throat and pushed it up against the wall. “Where is he?” he hissed, from between gritted teeth, squeezing his nails into its neck. “Where is Tony Stark? What have you done with him?”

He took the knife and pressed it, slowly, slowly into the Chitauri’s stomach. The thing let out a screech of pain, writhing in his grip, but Loki did not let go.

“Tell me,” Loki said. “Tell me, or I will cut open your stomach, remove your organs and shove them down your throat.”

The Chitauri was silent.

The Chitauri was already dead.

Loki had stabbed too deep.

And something hot, something painful built up behind his eyes—he wiped at them with the back of his bloody sleeve, let out a growl like a wild thing—his heart was aching, was throbbing in his chest, couldn’t breathe couldn’t think couldn’t—he just wanted  _ Tony. _

Not because of his dependency. Not because he couldn’t function on his own.

But because he  _ loved him. _

But now he was gone, he was gone, they had stolen him away—there was no doubt in Loki’s mind of that, for he knew that Tony wouldn’t have willingly left him—and they could be doing anything to him, they could be torturing him…

_ No. _

No, this was their moment of triumph, their glorious revenge—Loki would  _ not _ allow Thanos to take that away. And he would not allow Thanos to harm the one he loved.

So he continued to prowl down hallway after hallway without pausing, cutting the Chitauri down as quickly and cleanly as possible just so he could get to Tony  _ faster, _ and vowed to himself that he would not stop until Tony was back with him, safe in his arms.

* * *

The thing dragged him down into darkness, one six-fingered hand clamped down over both his wrists, another over his mouth. He shouldn’t have lowered the face plate.

There were a lot of things he shouldn’t have done.

He had been too confident.  _ Pride cometh before a fall. _ Was that a Bible verse? It certainly applied here. He had been so focused on watching Loki that he had forgotten to watch his back.

And his suit didn’t seem to be strong enough to break this creature’s grip, and he couldn’t wrench his hands free in order to aim the repulsors at its face, and he tried to fly but it didn’t accomplish much of anything— 

He braced one foot against the wall, used it to push off, tried to wrench himself free, struggling in its grip.

Nothing. This guy was unmovable.

All he accomplished was inducing a low, boiling current of creepy laughter, and for the thing’s six fingers to tighten painfully over his jaw. 

He heard one of the Chitauri give a shriek of pain from somewhere far away, and felt strangely comforted—at least Loki was more than capable of taking them on by himself, at least Tony wasn’t leaving him there defenseless…

But he was still leaving him there  _ alone. _

So he tried again, and again, and again to break free, although he knew it was hopeless, he knew, he knew—and the knowledge brought tears to his eyes—but he  _ had to keep trying, _ because he had to get to Loki, he had to, he had to…

Eventually, the thing must have gotten bored of this little game, because one of those hands moved to clench around a fistful of his hair, and slammed his head against the wall.

Darkness.

* * *

And pain.

And everything that didn’t hurt, ached.

Bleary eyes opened— _ bright, _ it was so, so bright. He squinted, but the light still caused his head to pound, everything like a drumbeat. He was a cartoon character with a huge bell on his head like a helmet, and another character had just hit the bell with a baseball bat.

“Shit…” he mumbled.

He tried to reach for his face, because it felt stiff. But his hands wouldn’t move.

They were shackled above his head.

Tony swallowed down bile and panic, and opened his eyes further, blinking away the dizziness and the nausea and the blurriness and trying to concentrate. He was in a… a huge chamber, with crumbling walls and an open sky, and it was warm, and he was stiff, and everything hurt, and he couldn’t think because his head was pounding— 

And Loki was  _ gone—  _

Tony swallowed, scrabbling for purchase on the floor with his toes. When he found it, he was able to turn slightly, all the while making these weird, involuntary choking noises in his throat because even that small shift had taken so much effort and he could barely breathe.

He turned around.

Someone was standing there.

“Hn,” Tony said, accidentally.

They turned towards him.

He was big. He was  _ huge. _ The size of a car. With arms like tree trunks, and golden armor, and purple skin that looked about as soft as an old geezer’s ass. When he saw Tony, his lips curled up in a smile, and his eyes flashed.

Tony sucked in a breath. His arms hurt. Shook. Trembled. Could barely support his weight. This all reminded him uncomfortably of Afghanistan.

“Who the hell… are you,” he managed to spit out.

The guy took a step closer, getting all up in Tony’s personal space, leering down at him. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard of me,” he said, voice low, rumbly. Would have been intimidating if Tony was in the mood to be intimidating by purple aliens. “Or did my Jotun pet not whine enough?”

Tony raised his chin.

And he hacked up a mouthful of blood and phlegm, right into Thanos’ face.

“Fuck you,” he said.

And, satisfied with his performance, he allowed his body to give up the exhausting task of keeping him upright. He collapsed. Dangled from the end of the chain, which made a  _ clinking _ noise that was much too cheerful-sounding for the occasion. God, his arms  _ burned. _

Thanos wiped the blood away. Smiling.

He leaned in.

“If you’re looking to kiss me,” Tony said. “I can’t blame you. But sadly, I’m taken.”

Thanos laughed.

Tony grinned at him. Hopefully exposing bloody teeth.

Then Thanos lashed out with one hand, quick as a snake, and squeezed Tony’s jaw shut. He fit a gag over it. Tony glared at him.

“He will be looking for you, I am sure,” Thanos said, still smiling. “I can’t have you screaming, crying, giving anything away - interfering with my plans. But perhaps you’d like to know what I plan to do with him.”

Thanos held up a scepter.

_ The _ scepter.

“I will take his memories with this, Stark. He will forget you. And once he is at my mercy, I will break him, over and over and over again, in so many different ways—you should have seen him the last time. He cried for hours. He was clinging to a filthy pillow, soaked in his own piss and vomit. The most pathetic sight I’ve ever seen.”

Tony would have sold his entire company, just to be free of those damned shackles, so he could murder Thanos. He didn’t care if he did it slowly, didn’t care if there was any satisfaction in it. He just wanted him dead.

“And if you’re thinking that your  _ friends _ will come and save you, well—” Thanos stepped back, put one hand on Tony’s shoulder—Tony shuddered—and turned him around.

He looked straight into Thor’s wide, wide eyes.

Bruce was beside him.

Clint and Bucky, too.

They were all hanging from shackles, all gagged, all glaring daggers at Thanos.

“Think again.”

Thanos laughed.

“Such idiots, Midgardians and Asgardians alike—all of you, thinking that my Chitauri were truly so weak. But I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. The overconfidence of the Avengers is the stuff of legend.”

Thanos stepped forward.

“And now, we will simply have to wait for my Jotun dog to return to his master. What do you think he’ll give up for you, Stark? His body? His life? His kingdom?” Thanos turned to stare down at Tony. “See, all this for  _ freedom. _ And yet, if he were still with me, all of you would be safe.” Thanos crouched down to look straight at him. “What do you make of your precious freedom now, Midgardian? No matter; you will not yearn for it long.”

* * *

Loki’s footsteps were the loudest thing Tony had ever heard.

And not only because he was probably concussed.

But when they heard the dim, echoing  _ thud, thud, thud, _ everyone looked up, eyes widening. And Thanos stepped forward, scepter raised, with a malicious smile in his eyes, his army of Chitauri gathering behind him, snarles poised on the edges of their lips.

It was dark here.

But when Loki entered, all eyes were drawn to the green light in his hands. 

_ “No,” _ Tony would have said, if he could speak.  _ “No, no, no.” _

Loki was bleeding. He was… he was bleeding from his stomach, from his side, and he could barely stagger across the room but he somehow managed to do so, and managed to hold up his hands and present  _ his magic _ to Thanos, stony determination in his eyes even as he bled out on the floor.

Loki was dying.

Loki was going to die.

To save them.

And something dark, something terrible and twisted whispered in the back of Tony’s mind— _ you never told him you loved him. _

And now he would never get the chance.

_“Loki,_ please!” he would have said, even as Thanos plucked the stone from Loki’s hands, holding it up between two fingers, a devilish grin on his face. _“Don’t do this. You can’t do this. There has to be another way, beca_ use I can’ _t live without you.”_

He wanted to punch the wall, he wanted to scream at the sky. But all he could manage to do was cry.

Loki looked at him.

Something soft in his eyes. Like a smile. Like a  _ goodbye. _

_ No. No. No. _

_ You weren’t supposed to die. _

Silent tears spilled down Tony’s cheeks.

Thanos chuckled, low in his throat. “Good choice, Laufeyson.” He clamped his hands down on Loki’s shoulders. “Now… show them how good you can be.”

Loki sank gracefully to his knees.

Across the room, Thor was visibly shaking with anger. Bucky was wrenching at the chains with his metal arm, but getting nowhere. Bruce had Hulked out, and was yanking furiously at the chain, but the gag and the shackles had grown to accommodate his size, and they were probably more than strong enough to withstand his strength. It made no difference.

Clint was silent. But he looked the angriest of them all.

And Tony… Tony  _ hurt. _

But Loki, even on his knees, looked dignified, regal and proud, with his chin raised and his hands folded neatly on his knees. Blood pooled around him, seeping into the cracks in the stone floor.

“I knew you would come back to me,” Thanos said. “I broke you so  _ thoroughly _ the last time. I’m surprised you lasted this long on your own, pathetic creature that you are. Pathetic, weak, worthless, and stupid.” 

Thanos caressed Loki’s magic almost lovingly, and he ran the fingers of his other hand through Loki’s hair.

Loki bowed his head.

“Repeat it,” Thanos said, a snarl on his lips.  _ “Say it. _ Tell them what you are.”

Loki opened his mouth to speak.

The dagger broke through Thanos’ armor with a sound like nails on a chalkboard, shattering glass, and a hammer on an anvil, all at once.

It came out of nowhere.

And then it was pulled out, and Thanos staggered back, but he only made it a step before the same, now bloodied dagger went straight in his eye, and out with the “ _ shluck”  _ of removing the stopper from a drain—a wet, ugly sound that made Tony want to laugh out loud.

Once the kneeling Loki flickered out of existence and was replaced by tall, proud,  _ snarling _ Loki, who proceeded to viciously rip the dagger out of Thanos’ eye and stab it into his groin, making him  _ howl, _ Tony did laugh out loud.

Obviously, no one heard it.

But still.

And he watched, wishing he had a bag of popcorn to munch on, as  _ Loki _ forced  _ Thanos _ to his knees, and leaned in close, and snarled in his ear, “I am Loki.”

“You…” Thanos managed to gargle out.

“It was an illusion, you idiot!” Loki cried, jabbing the dagger into Thanos’ shoulder. “Which you would have known, if you knew  _ anything _ about magic! You should never have underestimated me.  _ You _ are not the only liar in this room.”

The scepter clattered to the floor. Loki’s magic fell as well, but Loki caught it.

“I did it on purpose,” Loki said, holding up his magic, brandishing it in Thanos’ face. “I simply kept some extra in here,” he pointed to his chest. “In the magical wound  _ you _ gave me. Your Jotun dog outsmarted you.”

“My… army,” Thanos croaked.

“Cowards, the whole lot of them,” Loki glared at the Chitauri, who were crouching in the corners of the room. “And you, the greatest of them all. The most  _ pathetic,” _ he drove the dagger into Thanos’ side.  _ “Weak,”  _ he kicked Thanos in his bleeding groin.  _ “Worthless,” _ he pulled the dagger out, making Thanos groan. “And  _ broken _ sight I have ever seen.”

He stabbed Thanos in the heart.

Straightened, pressed a foot to his chest, and pushed him to the floor, where he landed in an ungainly heap, mumbled something that none of them made out, gave one last choked breath, and died.

Loki didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead he scooped up his magic, and raised both his arms.

The gag fell from Tony’s mouth. The chains broke. But instead of falling flat on his face, something like a strong, warm wind lowered him gently to the floor.

Loki ran to him, and dropped to one knee, his entire body covered in blood, most of it Thanos’, his hair dried and clumped together with it, his clothes soaked and a bleeding gash above his eye, another on his cheek.

Tony hugged him without hesitation.

Loki hugged him back.

Fiercely,  _ ferociously _ holding onto each other, tears in each others’ hair, Loki’s eyelashes tickling his cheek. Tony could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and he wanted to grin, to laugh, because  _ Loki was alive,  _ but first, there was something he had to say.

“I love you,” Tony said. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kissed Loki on the neck, on the jaw, on the lips.

Loki may have sobbed, he may have laughed, Tony wasn’t sure.

“I love you too,” he said. “I love you  _ so much.”  _ He pulled away suddenly. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

“Nothin’ much, just a little hit on my head. Barely even hurts anymore,” Tony lied, smiling.

“Oh…  _ thank you.” _

“For what?”

“For being all right,” Loki said, one tear falling, and leaned in to kiss him again.

When Tony opened his eyes, he saw Thor, and Bruce, and Clint, and Bucky there, standing around them. They all looked visibly shaken, and each and every one of them had tears in their eyes, but…

The Chitauri were gone. Thanos was dead. Everyone was alive.

Loki was here, in his arms.

Even covered in blood, Tony had never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is - the climax of the story! I hope you liked it!  
> And you have my past self to thank for the 'old geezer's ass' bit. I read that and couldn't believe I ever wrote it - so of course I decided to leave it in.
> 
> One last thing: I posted a new story called [love gone bad (turns my world to black)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831992/chapters/57267667) and I was super nervous to post it, in all honesty, so it would mean the world if you gave it a shot. Basically it's a post CW fic where Pepper becomes abusive to Tony. So... lots of angst :) 
> 
> Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for reading! We are really nearing the end here, and I can't believe it's almost over! But I'm so grateful to all of you who have stuck with this fic for so long <3


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say here really, other than we're in the process of tying up loose ends. There are a lot of them, haha. Hope you enjoy :)

Loki did not touch Thanos’ body.

He did not deserve even that fraction of his attention.

Instead he turned away, walking in the center of the others, his hand in Tony’s. The scepter was in Tony’s other hand. Loki’s magic had already reentered his body, and he felt like he could breathe freely again.

At the last second, Loki changed his mind, whirled, levitated his dagger, and hacked ruthlessly at Thanos’ body until it spilled guts and intestines like an overflowing bottle of champagne. He sawed off Thanos’ stomach skin and the ridges of his chin and gouged out his eyes. Then he set the body on fire.

The Chitauri watched fearfully from the shadows like the groveling beasts that they were. Loki eyed them with contempt as he turned and led everyone away, his head held high.

He did not regret it. The Norns owed him. This small moment of satisfaction made up hardly a fraction of their debt. And Thanos deserved what he got.

* * *

“I love you,” Tony kept saying, holding on so tightly to Loki’s hand.

No one interrupted them, no one else even spoke. Thor had asked to hug him, and Loki had had to deny him. Not that he wouldn’t have liked to—because he was very, very grateful to Thor for coming with them. But he doubted that he could handle it, even now. 

Banner had shaken his hand, clasping it tightly between both of his. And Barton had offered him a short smile, and even Barnes gave him a small nod of approval. Their affection made Loki feel full to bursting with warmth.

But it was nothing like what he felt when Tony told him that he loved him.

Because people did not love broken things. Did not love worthless things. And Tony was wonderful, was perfect, and he would not give his love to someone that did not deserve it.

But even before Tony’s confession, seeing Thanos there, in his crumbling castle, with his pathetic army of mindless Chitauri, his only companions animals who could not even think for themselves—king of nothing, living in a wasteland outside of even the Nine Realms—Loki had realized how pathetic Thanos truly was.

After all, Thanos was dead now, rotting away. Maggots would crawl out of his eyes, worms would feast on his flesh.

And Loki, strongest sorcerer in all of Asgard, with his proud little army of mortals, his brother the prince beside him and Tony, his mortal lover on his other side, was so much  _ stronger, _ and worth so, so much  _ more _ than Thanos could ever have hoped to be, even when he was alive.

Of course, the past was still humiliating, the fact that Tony and the others now knew what he had been reduced to here made him almost want to hide his face, but Tony loved him  _ despite _ all that, and Thor still wanted to hug him, and Banner and Clint and Barnes did not think him weak, or they would not have treated him with such respect.

And Loki had killed Thanos. He had saved all of  _ Midgard. _

Only a fool would call him weak now.

Loki felt something warm, a flickering flame somewhere inside him. He felt so at peace, all of a sudden. That was something he had not felt in a very, very long time.

“Home?” he asked, throwing his arms wide.

“Oh, god yes,” Tony said, squeezing his hand. “And have I told you that I love you yet? Cause I do.”

Loki couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

He wanted to laugh forever.

* * *

He teleported them back to earth.

And immediately staggered, because  _ fuck, _ he was tired—creating a perfectly lifelike, tangible copy of himself, all while sporting ten stab wounds in his arm, and proceeding to teleport  _ four _ extra people to earth had not been easy.

Tony caught him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re heavy,” he said, and kissed Loki on the lips.

SHIELD found them within five minutes.

Three helicopters, the wind caused by them making Loki’s hair blow in Tony’s face, landed unceremoniously in the middle of the grassy field they were standing in.

_ “Hands up, Loki. You’re not gonna escape this time,” _ they heard Fury say, through a loudspeaker. Although he didn’t get out of the helicopter.

“Oh, fuck  _ off, _ Nick!” Tony cried.

Silence.

“You really do make a very pathetic sight, Director. What are a handful of Midgardians, despised by their own world, going to do against the  _ Hulk?” _ Loki asked, smirking from behind an armful of Tony.

Fury jumped down from the helicopter.

“This handful of Midgardians isn’t going down without a fight,” he said, pistol raised.

Loki could respect that.

He raised his chin. “Maybe so. But why fight, when there is no need to do so? Director, I can assure you that each of us is here by our own free will. In fact, we just saved your planet. If you were to take a look at your scanners, you would see that the Chitauri—which you  _ failed _ to warn the public about—are gone. And they will not be coming back.”

Fury’s grip on his gun did not waver, but something flickered behind his eyes.

Someone else jumped down.

Romanoff.

“Nat,” Barton said. Sadness creating an undertow in his voice, something like a dragging current.

“Clint,” Romanoff said, flipping her hair out of her eyes, raising a pistol. “What the _ hell  _ are you doing.”

“He’s with us,” Tony said. “And, well, we’re all with Loki—it’s kind of hard to explain. But we’re good here. No mind control, no magic puppetry, no creepiness, no nothing. Oh, and we just saved the world, so there’s that, too.”

Romanoff took a step forward, one hand on the weapon in a holster on her belt. “Clint?”

Clint nodded. “It’s true. Nat, I can explain, if you’ll promise to listen.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

Because Romanoff looked furious. Romanoff didn’t look like she was in  _ any _ mood to listen.

“How dare you do this to him,” she said, taking another step. She shot Loki three times.

The bullets bounced off him and landed in the grass.

The use of the protective shield wore him out even more, and he ended up leaning even more heavily on Tony. And perhaps if Romanoff had decided to shoot him a hundred times more, he would have eventually weakened enough to where he would not have been able to protect himself.

But she did not need to know that.

“Oh,  _ please, _ ” he said, smiling. “I’m still a god, you know. But I won’t hurt you. There is no need to fear.”

“Please, Lady Romanoff,” Thor said. “Listen to my brother.”

“Clint,” Romanoff said, looking helpless.

Fury stared at them all.

Barton turned, glanced back towards Loki.

Loki nodded, once.

And Barton began to run, tearing through the grass. He skidded to a halt in front of Romanoff and immediately leaned in close, murmuring to her.

Fury’s gun was still raised, which would have put Loki on edge, but luckily he knew that the bullets in his gun, and all the other SHIELD agent’s guns, had somehow turned into blueberries.

“I love you,” Tony said. 

Loki hugged him close.

* * *

This feeling of floating didn’t last long.

Eventually, Loki’s breathing picked up, his heart started to hammer—and he didn’t know why. Perhaps this… whatever  _ this _ was was a permanent part of him now. 

He desperately hoped that wasn’t the case.

But when it ended, Tony was there to hold his hand, to hug him, to kiss him, to murmur sweet nothings in his ear—because they  _ loved _ each other.

And after a minute Loki was able to lift his head and smile genuinely, and turn to the others and say, “We will go to Stark Tower, then,” because that was the plan that they had agreed upon.

Apparently, Loki should not have to hide in the dark.

Apparently, Loki should be considered a hero, for everything he had done.

And they were going to go to the tower, and they were going to  _ tell _ everyone what had happened. And everyone was going to listen, or the Hulk would pound them into oblivion.

Apparently.

* * *

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Banner said.

They were standing in another field. Barton had stayed with Romanoff for a while, but he had left her and come back to accompany them. He was standing off to the side, fiddling with an arrow.

“Whatever for?” Loki asked.

“For hurting you. During the battle of New York. Obviously, I didn’t know you were mind controlled. But I’m sorry now.”

Loki stared at him, surprised. “Thank you. And I forgive you. Wholeheartedly.”

Banner chuckled. “Yeah. I figured you would.”

Loki didn’t know what to make of that.

Tony squeezed his hand.

“I am sorry too, brother,” Thor said. “For whatever it is that I have done to harm you.”

“Thor…” Loki met his brother’s eyes. (For, even if they were not related, after all Thor had done for him, Loki could not help but consider him his brother.) “You did nothing wrong. And I am sorry that I cannot be close to you at the moment, but in time, once I am well… perhaps we can be as close as we once were, again.”

Thor smiled at that. “I look forward to it.”

Tony and Banner stood aside to speak to each other. Thor looked down at his hammer. Barnes stood off to the side, pretending to be extremely interested in his own feet. Loki figured he probably wasn’t one for sentimental conversations.

“Loki,” Barton said.

Loki turned.

To find himself looking at Barton’s extended hand.

Loki shook it.

“You could have stayed with her, you know,” Loki said. “I would not have held it against you.”

“Yeah. But, well, I figured… we’re not really a whole team without the cool guy with the arrows, are we?”

Loki smiled at him. “I suppose not.”

His smile faded quickly when Barton’s expression darkened.

“Yes?” Loki asked.

Barton heaved a huge breath. He pointed an arrow towards where Tony was standing, still holding the scepter. “It has your memories, right? So you can get them back?”

“Yes,” Loki said.

“Will you?”

Loki hesitated.

But in an instant, he knew.

“Yes,” he said. “I will.”

Barton nodded. “Best of luck, then. It’s not fun. And hey,” he added, smiling again. “We should go to a symphony sometime. There’s a great one near Stark Tower, actually. Plays every month or so.”

There were a lot of  _ ifs, _ hanging in the air after that statement.

_ If _ your name is cleared.

_ If _ you don’t go mad after regaining your lost memories.

_ If _ none of us are brutally murdered by Steve Rogers.

But Loki chose to ignore them, and grinned instead, slapping Barton on the back. “I think I would like that very much.”

* * *

Loki teleported them to the roof of the tower.

“J, tell everyone that we’re here,” Tony said. “I want Rhodey, Steve, Pepper, Happy, the works.”

**Already on it, sir.**

Barnes turns to Loki. “I don’t know if he’ll believe you,” he said, “even if I’m here. He can be stubborn.”

“Believe me, I know,” said Tony, even though Barnes hadn’t been talking to him. “But we’re not doing this for him.”

One by one, the others filed in, all with matching stony expressions, looking, almost, like they were arriving to a funeral.

“Let’s make this quick,” Loki murmured in Tony’s ear. “My protection shield won’t last long, and I wouldn’t put it past any of them to shoot us.”

Perhaps they should have waited until Loki was stronger to attempt this. But they were impatient. Loki most of all. He didn’t want to live in the shadows any longer.

According to the others, he shouldn’t have to.

And maybe he could believe it now.

After all, he just saved Midgard from the very man who tortured him, who abused him. And according to Tony (and perhaps he believed it) he had been punished more than enough for what he had done to Jotunheim, and the battle of New York wasn’t his fault.

And if so, wasn’t he innocent?

And if he was innocent, then didn’t he deserve to be called a hero? And didn’t he deserve to step out of the shadows and into the sunlight?

Wasn’t he owed at least that much?

Loki didn’t quite know how to process that. So he would ignore it for now.

After all, the fight was not truly over yet.

He heard Tony suck in a breath, and watched as he adopted his billionaire grin, and his confident, playboy stance, and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket.

He put them on. Spread his arms wide.

“Hey, welcome to the party.”

They stood on two opposite sides of the roof, looking almost like two armies lined up for battle. Tony’s words hung in the air, and were blown away by the frigid wind.

“It’s cold,” Tony said. “How ‘bout we go inside?”

“He,” Rogers said, nodding at Loki. “Is a national threat. We are going to  _ arrest him, _ not let him inside.”

“Oh, I think not,” Tony said, taking a step forward, with something like a swagger in his step. “My tower, my rules. Get your asses in the living room. Or, I guess you can just chuck yourself off the side of the building. I really don’t care.”

Tony began to walk, across the roof, and Loki followed him, and so did Banner, Barton and Thor, and Barnes, without hesitation.

They took the stairs, didn’t look back.

But the sound of footsteps behind them let them know that the rest were following.

_ Oh, this was likely to go very, very well indeed. _

* * *

“Everyone get comfortable,” Tony said, sprawling out on the couch. “Come on. We’re all friends here. Come on,” he patted the spot next to him, looking directly at Loki.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

Tony mouthed something— _ trust me, _ Loki thought it was, and he did, so he sat down beside Tony.

“I’ll compromise on many things,” Tony whispered in his ear. “But not this. Not  _ us. _ If they’re not cool with  _ us, _ then we’re ditching them. Yeah?”

Loki would have smiled, were not the glares from the people assembled awkwardly on the other side of the room making him extremely uncomfortable.

“That said, probably shouldn’t kiss me, much as I know you’d like to. Might freak ‘em out. Y’know. Er, anyway.” Tony leaned away, clapped his hands. “Sit down!”

No one moved.

Barton, who was already sitting next to Banner, plucked at the string of his arrow as if it was a broken guitar.

“Did I stutter?” Tony asked, his voice growing colder. “Sit. Down.”

The woman—Pepper, Loki thought her name was—was openly crying. Although, to her credit, she was managing to do it silently. She wiped at her face with a napkin and sat down, primly, on the couch, her knees together and her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Tony—”

Tony raised a finger. “Uh, uh, uh,” he said. “I’ve got the floor. And, just so you know,  _ this guy,” _ Tony pointed at Loki, “Could teleport us away in a second. You’d never see any of us again. So you’d better follow my rules, or we’ll be gone,  _ poof,” _ he mimed an explosion with his hands, and then leaned back again, his arm on the cushion behind Loki, “Just like that.”

No one spoke.

“Good!” Tony cried. He clapped his hands again. Sprang to his feet. “Good. It is  _ so _ good to be back… anyone want anything?” he asked, walking over to the fridge. Thankfully, not out of sight, but it did leave Loki feeling horribly exposed, there by himself.

Banner, who was sitting beside him, must have noticed, because he leaned in slightly closer, and put a hand on his forearm.

Loki felt  _ warm. _

“Loki?” Tony asked. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take some whiskey,” Loki said, with an easy smile. 

Tony snapped his fingers in the air. “Good choice! Bruce?”

“Just a soda for me. I think there’s some in the bottom drawer.”

“Bottom drawer?” Tony repeated. “So there is!” his head popped back up, and he fixed Potts with incredulous wide-eyes. “You rearranged my fridge? Come on, it was only a month or so! You didn’t have to rearrange my damn fridge—I had a  _ method,  _ you know, drinks in the door, cheese in the bottom drawer—whatever,” he muttered, and took out a soda. “The rest of you can just have beers. I’m too tired to make anything.”

He collapsed back onto the couch next to Loki and pushed a glass of whiskey into his hands. His fingers lingered, brushing against Loki’s for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and he spread his legs wide, casually, bumping their knees together.

“Drop the act, Stark,” Rogers said. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but this is no time for jokes—”

“Oh, you wanna be serious?” Tony threw his arms wide. “By all means,  _ be serious,  _ just don’t expect me to follow along—I’m not a  _ follower,  _ Rogers, if you weren’t aware. Especially not of you.”

“Tony,” Potts said, again.

“I’d like to speak with Tony alone,” Rhodes said.

“No,” Tony said.

Barton raised his bow threateningly.

“Do you realize how long you’ve been gone?” Rhodes continued, his voice rising. “Do you  _ realize  _ that you’ve just brought a  _ mass murderer _ into the tower—?”

“My tower,” Tony muttered.

“And  _ do you realize _ that we can’t trust a damn thing you say with him here?” Rhodes pounded a fist against his knee. 

Tony glanced at Loki.

And sighed.

“Well,” he said. “Here we go again. Wanna do the honors?”

“Oh, I think we could tell them together,” Loki said, a smile playing about his lips. “Wouldn’t want to leave anything out.” (Because after killing Thanos, he was feeling a bit worn out, and he didn’t feel like standing in front of four people who hated him and telling them about how he had been tortured, alone.)

(Not that Tony would ever have left him to do it alone once he realized how anxious Loki still was.)

Anyway, they proceeded to explain everything.

Although, Tony left the torture-details to Loki, who didn’t elaborate much, and who didn’t take off his shirt to allow them to see the brand—these weren’t the type of people to be swayed by sympathy, after all. At least, not right now. (And besides, he really didn’t want Rogers to see such a thing.) 

But he told them that the battle of New York hadn’t been his fault.

That he had never  _ wanted _ to lead that army.

And that he had tried his very, very best—even mind-controlled, even as his own memories were ripped away—to sabotage his own invasion, to somehow let them know that this  _ wasn’t him _ but no one— 

No one understood, and no one figured it out, and so he was stolen from his own cell and he was— 

“Tortured,” he said, watching as something dark passed over Rogers’ eyes, as Potts looked down at the ground, and Rhodey sucked in a sharp breath.

That’s when Loki stopped talking.

That’s when Loki’s hand flew to his chest, and his fingers splayed out over it. He could feel the indentations, the burnt skin, even through his shirt.

New York wasn’t his fault (difficult as that was to believe). And sure, he had tried to destroy Jotunheim, he had killed his father, he had tried to kill Thor—and those were not light crimes, by any means—but he… he didn’t deserve… surely he didn’t deserve…

_ Tony _ had said, time and time again, that Loki had been punished enough, that what Thanos did to him was  _ wrong _ and that no one, no one deserved that, and… and Tony even  _ forgave him. _

And Tony had said that, and somehow, suddenly, those words almost seemed to make sense, almost seemed to… 

Loki blinked.

His eyes… his eyes were watering, his chest felt heavy and painful, he… fumbled for Tony’s hand, even though he didn’t want them to see his weakness— _ it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to cry— _

He didn’t know what to think anymore, all of a sudden.

Tony squeezed his hand tight.

“And when I saw him in that SHIELD cell,” he said. “I kind of—well, I don’t wanna say  _ related, _ because obviously, he had it so much worse—but I kind of emphasized with him, and I couldn’t, well…”

Tony rambled on haltingly, and Loki barely heard.

His punishment was supposed to be life in prison—or perhaps a few thousand years if the Allfather felt merciful enough—and his punishment was supposed to be staring at the ceiling of a blank cell, was supposed to be boredom and the same tasteless meals every day and having no one to talk to and seething over his failure, and _ his punishment _ was  _ never _ supposed to involve pain or torture or starvation or rape.

He didn’t deserve that.

Because no one deserved that.

His punishment was never supposed to reduce him to a shell of himself, was never supposed to make him panic at the smallest of touches, was never meant to  _ break him— _ (although Tony would say that he wasn’t broken, and perhaps if he tried very, very hard he could believe it, but it was all too much right now and it was easier to fall back on old beliefs, pounded into his head by Thanos, beliefs that should never have been there in the first place).

Perhaps he would have burst into tears, but he couldn’t because they were all staring at him. He couldn’t break down now.

Luckily, Tony seemed to somehow have sensed that he was wearing thin (maybe because Loki was clinging to his hand like a sniveling child to his mother’s), because he said, “Now, I’m not gonna take up any more of your precious time. But you should know that as soon as we can, we are going public with this. Innocent men shouldn’t have to hide in the dark,” Tony looked at Loki, squeezed his hand again. “And if you so much as look at him the wrong way, or try something  _ idiotic _ like attempting to capture him or kill him—well, you’ll have the coolest, strongest Avengers to deal with, so I’d just leave us alone if I were you,” Tony said, and grinned threateningly. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all stood up.

“Hey, wait!” Rhodes cried, jumping to his feet.

“Tony,  _ Tony, _ don’t—” Potts tried, tears in her eyes.

Rogers’ expression was unreadable, and he was looking very hard at Barnes.

Everyone grabbed on to Loki.

And he teleported them away.

* * *

“Sorry, guys. Looks like you might have to crash here for the night,” Tony said, after they reappeared in the tiny little Washington safe house.

**Welcome home, sir.**

“J!” Tony cried, and the happiness evident in his voice was enough to make Loki smile. “It’s so good—you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”

**Same to you, sir. I am so very glad that you are all safe.**

Tony grinned.

Barton and Banner and Barnes stood by awkwardly, and when Tony gave them directions, they shuffled off to their rooms. Thor followed after only a moment’s hesitation, during which he gave Loki an encouraging smile and Loki managed to give a small, shy one back.

Then he and Tony stood there, alone, finally, for the first time in what felt like months. Quiet, despite there being so much to say.

Loki wanted to tell Tony about this warmth inside of him, wanted to tell him how relieved he felt and how thankful he was that Tony was here and Thanos was finally, finally dead—but he also wanted Tony to hold him and he wanted, somehow, to finally, finally believe that he could be strong, despite needing comfort—it was all confused and jumbled up in his head, this desire, and this inability to keep on believing that he was strong.

And he wanted to tell Tony everything, everything that Thanos did to him and everything that Loki had done to himself, and he wanted to show Tony his true form and wanted—needed, desperately—for Tony to confirm what he had already been thinking, that he couldn't be a hero and a monster at the same time.

Loki closed his eyes and repeated it, over and over—he wasn't a monster, and he wasn't pathetic or weak or worthless because Thanos was wrong.

But it was hard.

And the instant that he stopped repeating it in his mind, he seemed to forget it. It slipped away, almost immediately, and that clammy, cold feeling of hatred wrapped its frozen fingers around his heart and squeezed.

"Tony," Loki said, helplessly.

He should be happy right now.

Why wasn't he happy?

And Thanos was dead, so why did he still have a hold on him? It seemed—although he knew that this was wrong—that the instant Thanos died, all the marks he had left on Loki's body and mind should have simply vanished.

But they hadn't, they hadn't, and he was at a loss. He didn't know what to do.

That was when Tony stepped into view, all smiles, eyes shining—and his smile must have been contagious, for Loki felt one pulling at his own lips—and pulled him into a merciless death-squeeze of a hug.

"Love you," Tony said.

And Loki knew that it would take a long time before he could actually learn to believe it, but in this moment—just this beautiful, perfect moment—it was easy to recite in his mind:  _ I am Loki. I am strong and I am a hero and I deserve the world because I. Did. Not. Break. _

"I didn't break," he said, aloud, into Tony's ear. "I didn't."

"Course you didn't," Tony said, and kissed him on the forehead. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Of course you didn't, Lokes. As if anyone could ever break you."

Loki almost, almost began to cry.

And although he didn't shed a single tear, his shoulders shook slightly, and his whole body felt turbulent, like waves crashing. He didn't know which way was up.

Suddenly, Tony was the only thing grounding him. His lips and his touch and his warmth.

And that was okay.

That was fine.

Somehow.

Peace, again. Peace, for now. Just for now.

He knew it would leave again. He knew that he would have to fight hard for its return. But perhaps—and this thought brought a smile to his face—eventually, it would be there to stay.

* * *

They decided to sleep.

They would talk later. In the morning, perhaps.

For now, Loki was exhausted. And for now, he wanted Tony's nearness, and the intimacy of their bed and the dark. He felt like he could bare his soul here.

"I love you," he said, grabbing Tony's collar, pressing his lips to his neck, shoulder, collarbone.

Tony kissed him back. "I love you too," he said. Honesty. Clear in his voice.

And Loki realized that he didn't have to have sex with Tony, didn't have to do anything he wasn't ready to do, because Tony didn't want that.

Tony was perfectly content just like this.

Loki could tell. He had spent so long alone with him, so many days, that of course he could tell.

Tony truly loved him.

Just like this.

Again, he was struck by that strange urge to cry, that overwhelming ache in his chest, so painful that he could barely wrap his head around it.

Although the pain did lessen a bit when he pulled Tony closer, when he rested his head on the curve of Tony's shoulder, grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on for dear life.

"He's dead," Loki said. "He's gone."  _ I’m free. _

Perhaps if he repeated it enough, he could actually believe it.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw Tony's smile, as well as the tears that were running down his cheeks. "Yes he is," Tony said. "He's dead and rotting in the ground."

"Why are you crying?" Loki asked, because if any one of them were to be crying, it should be him. Loki was the one who always cried.

He felt Tony shrug. “Don’t really know. It just… happened. I’m not sad, though. I’m really not.”

“Me neither,” Loki murmured. It wasn’t a lie. How could it be?

He leaned in, cautiously, and pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips.

And perhaps, if he tried very hard, he could almost understand why Tony kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading. Comments are love :)


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tooth-rotting fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter :)

Tony was tossing and turning, mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

“Tony, Tony, wake up.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open.

He was breathing hard, shaking, so Loki pulled him close for a few moments, until he had calmed slightly. Loki smiled softly, kissed him on the lips. “Are you all right?”

Tony trembled, and shook his head.

So Loki held him, and wondered at how quickly their roles had reversed—before he remembered that there were no roles here, only two people who loved each other. He had a hunch that that would continue to be a difficult thing to remember.

Loki held him until the shakes stopped, and continued to hold him after, because it made his heart swell.

“How about now?”

Tony relaxed in Loki’s arms, leaning his head back onto his shoulder. “Better.”

Loki hummed softly, as the seconds ticked by. “I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he said, after a while.

After all, love was not common in Asgard. Lust, certainly. Men would speak of women as creatures to be conquered... never to their faces, of course, and Loki had rarely been privy to such conversations, but he had heard the rowdy talk of Volstagg and Hogun, and he supposed that, having never experienced anything more than lust for himself, he must have assumed that that was all there was.

But love was a million times better.

"Me neither," Tony said, smiling slightly. He let his knuckles rest against Loki's cheek.

"Tony," Loki said. "There are things I would like to tell you."

Tony raised both his eyebrows, in a show of casualness, but the way his body stiffened gave him away. "Shoot," he said.

"Not now," Loki said. "Just... be aware."

Tony's smile disappeared, but he brushed a piece of Loki's hair aside with his thumb. "Got it."

They sat like that for a long time after, Tony’s head resting on Loki’s chest, Loki’s fingers softly threading through Tony’s hair.

* * *

Loki realized that he was not afraid of what Tony would think.

And it was the strangest feeling, to not be afraid of this.

But he knew that Tony wouldn't reject him over something so superficial as his skin color. And he knew that Tony wouldn't find him ugly. Couldn't, probably.

And yes, he had decided to start with his Jotun form. It was easiest, perhaps, and the least important.

He closed his eyes, and let his many glamours slip away.

Opened red eyes, blinked slowly—well, this wasn't so bad, really.

Looked down at his arms, and yes, he had to fight against an automatic twinge of disgust, ingrained into him over thousands of years.

But he wasn't disgusted by himself. He wasn't sure what it was that disgusted him, but it wasn't  _ himself. _

"So this," Tony said, slowly, carefully, "Is what you really look like? A Frost Giant, or whatever you said it was?"

"Jotun," Loki corrected him. "I am a Jotun. From Jotunheim."

Tony began to reach out, hesitantly. "Can I...?"

"Best not," Loki said. "You would get frostbite. Because of your pitiful, fragile mortal skin."

Tony smiled cautiously. And then he began to ramble, words falling over each other—"It's not bad, you know, and it's not ugly—you could never be ugly, but it's actually really pretty, in my opinion, such a pretty color, and those designs... I've never seen anything like it before—" 

"Tony," Loki stopped him. "I know."

_ I know that you could never find me ugly. And I don't think that I am ugly either, not anymore. _

At least, not because of this. Not because of such a stupid, inconsequential thing as this. 

"It seems silly now, actually," he said, glancing down at his own skin. "I used to be so... all-consumed by this hatred. Of myself. I thought I was a monster. But it's such an unimportant thing now. I'm not sure why."

"That's good," Tony said. Light, streaming in through the windows was reflected in his eyes, made them shine, and the worst thing about this form was not being able to touch him. "That's really good. You're beautiful, you know."

There was a lump in Loki's throat.

“So are you,” he murmured, because Tony was—everything about him, from his eyes to his lips to his mind to his stupid, silly goatee was  _ beautiful. _

Tony smiled softly. “But you should probably return to your other form now, or I won’t be able to resist the urge to kiss you.”

Loki did, and it was a relief, if only because he was more used to this form, and if only because he was able to touch Tony again.

* * *

Talking, someone had informed him long ago, was supposed to help, supposed to lessen any weight on your chest, in the same way that time and sleep and other seemingly completely unhelpful things were meant to—especially if you were talking to someone who would listen to you and nod along at the right moments and laugh when you made unfunny jokes and perhaps squeeze your hand when your throat closed up and you couldn't speak. A form of therapy, apparently.

Of course, long ago when he was told that, he had probably laughed it off and waved a royal hand in the air, but now...

He wanted to tell Tony everything.

If only so that there would be no more secrets. No more lies. He wanted Tony to know all of him, and he wanted to feel that sense of relief that would inevitably come when he realized that Tony loved him regardless. Every single time.

But yes, therapy... it was another reason.

He hoped, desperately, that the talking would help.

"I did this," he began, and rolled up his sleeve, exposing the already-fading stab wounds. "I won't again," he said quickly, cutting Tony off when his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't—it's not like that, I promise. It was to keep the Chitauri from finding me. I—my magic healed too much, and was too strong, and they could sense it, so—I had to keep my magic weaker." Loki paused, bracing himself. “And I... I… some small part of me  _ does _ want to do it again. But I won’t.” 

Tony closed his mouth.

"It is hard, to..." licked his lips. "To regain any sort of... regard, for myself. All that pride, that I once had, was—not lost, but something within, the core, was broken, or—"

Tony tensed.

"Tony," Loki murmured, softly. "Do not worry. I know that I am not broken."

Was that a lie?

He wasn't sure.

He knew, deep down, he  _ knew _ that he wasn't broken. (Maybe). But the truly difficult thing was believing it.

And remembering, later.

Tony reached out and touched his cheek. "It just makes me sad that you ever thought you were."

It was a strange thing, to be lying here, sharing secrets—and Loki realized then, that this too was a secret—Tony’s secret, that his own self-hatred had hurt Tony, as well, had hurt everyone,  _ gods _ he was so...

He tried his best not to allow the word to surface, but it burned in the back of his mind anyway.

_ Stupid. _

And he sucked in a sharp breath, and stiffened—his entire body stiffened—and of course, Tony noticed, because he pulled his hand away and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Sorry," Loki said, quickly, because Thanos always forced him to...

No, Thanos was  _ dead. _

He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear it, wondered if he would still forget this so often once he had his memories back.

_ Oh, his memories. _

He should return them sooner, rather than later. Today. Within the hour, probably. But he would speak with Tony first. After all, if he went mad, he would never get the chance.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked.

"No," Loki said, truthfully, with a small smile. "But... I am better than I was."

Tony sighed, and returned his hand to Loki's cheek, his thumb moving in slow circles. Loki felt it when he blinked, against his eyelashes.

"You can tell me the rest," Tony said. "If you want."

And Loki did.

Every deranged, sadistic game that Thanos played, every tactic, every method to get him to hurt, to cry, to scream, all those things that he hadn’t  _ deserved _ but which had been done to him anyway.

All those nights spent murmuring to himself, spent reciting, _ I will not break, I will not break. _

_ "Gods," _ he remembered saying, that awful night, curled up in the corner of the cell, his chest still on fire despite the burning metal being long gone, his eyes still watering, nose still on fire with the smell, the still-lingering sharp smell of it, like cooking meat, like food...

_ "Gods," _ he remembered saying.  _ "I want to die, I want to die, I want to..." _

Then he had shut his mouth, and taken a deep breath, shaken his head against the sudden temptation to cry, to give in, to accept that perhaps death was better than whatever this was, and began to recite again.

And  _ "fuck you," _ he remembered saying, although only in his mind—a glare hidden behind his eyes, fists clenched in anger, although that could be easily taken for pain— _ "fuck you, I will tear your eyes out and shove them down your throat,"  _ he had wanted to say, to Thanos. He had hated Thanos, had retained his hatred, even after... even after Thor.

It was a hollow victory. It was practically nothing.

But  _ practically _ nothing and  _ absolutely  _ nothing were two very different things.

Loki let out a long, slow breath.

He was done speaking. He was done. He didn't even care if he had accidentally left something out. He just wanted to rest, now.

Tony didn't say a word.

And then—and Loki had known that he would do this, but it still caused something deep inside him to flare with warmth—he pulled him close, without even speaking, just pulled him close and let Loki's head rest on his shoulder.

Even though he knew now.

Knew everything.

Knew what Loki—what  _ Thanos _ had done, using the image of Loki's own... own brother. For that.

_ Why?  _ Loki wondered. Why  _ did he do that? To me? (He shouldn’t have done it. I  _ didn’t _ deserve it.) _

_ “Lygari,” _ Loki said, “Meant ‘liar’. Not whatever I said. It meant ‘liar,” because when you rescued me from SHIELD, half of me thought that you were a Chitauri. The other half thought that you were going to torture me. And when I began to panic it… it showed through. It took me a long time to begin to trust you.”

“Please,” Tony said. “Loki, don’t—don’t  _ ever _ think that what he did to you was justified.”

Loki sniffed and shook his head, and he didn’t reply, didn’t say  _ I won’t _ because he couldn’t without lying, but he did kiss Tony’s neck and his cheek and his hair.

"He was sick, somehow," Loki said, realizing it slowly, voice shaky. "Something about him was made wrong, was already ruined, and he enjoyed... he enjoyed my suffering. I don't know why, but he wanted me to hate myself and to think that I was a monster. Probably because he couldn't stand to be one himself."

"You're right," Tony said, voice hard with anger. "You're right, he was vile, and perverted, and an asshole, and definitely a monster. But we don't need to talk about him. Not anymore."

Loki felt himself smile. "Yes, I would much rather never mention him again," although that wasn't very likely to happen. "Instead, can we just—"

"Nap time?" Tony asked, even though they had practically just woken up.

Loki managed to laugh. "That sounds wonderful," he said, and pressed his lips to Tony's, and... and let out a sigh and pulled him as close as he possibly could, rested his chin in the crook of his neck. He could hear Tony's soft breathing. If he shifted, even slightly, he could feel his pulse.

"Thank you," Loki said. "For listening."

“I’ll always listen, whenever you need it.”

* * *

“I love you,” Tony said, about ten minutes later. (Neither of them had fallen back asleep, but instead had remained in each other’s arms, just resting quietly.)

And Loki… Loki was going to  _ cry. _

Which was fine.

There was no shame in crying.

So as a few hot tears spilled down his cheeks, he opened his eyes to look at Tony, and saw that  _ he _ was crying too…

And Loki smiled, softly, smiled because he was happy.

Thanos was dead, and Loki was safe here, with the man he loved, and he was happy.

The world seemed to come into focus.

He was living his life again. He could do anything, be anything—any number of beautiful things, anything he wanted—a universe at his fingertips. He could explore and he could learn and he could read books and spin his magic and walk among the stars and do  _ anything. _

“I love you too,” he said. Could never say it enough.

* * *

In the end…

Well, in the end, Tony went with him.

Although it took a long ass time for Loki to convince him.

“It will take only a fraction of a second,” Loki said. “You will barely be able to blink.”

Tony had resisted, saying that he wouldn’t want to see Loki like that if Loki didn’t want him to, that these were  _ his _ memories and they were precious and personal, that  _ he _ didn’t want to see Loki like that either— 

But that was selfish, and he took it back immediately after, when Loki’s small, fake smile disappeared and he began to wring his hands, biting his lip, saying, “Oh. That’s fine. I can… go alone, then.”

Tony realized how scary this must be for him.

A whole year of memories. A whole _ year. _

And he was trusting Tony enough, trusting Tony enough to ask him to go in  _ with _ him— 

Yes, yes of course Tony didn’t want to see Loki like that, but he  _ would _ if it would help him get through this, help even the smallest bit.

Tony grabbed Loki’s hands, held them tightly. “No,” he said. “No, forget what I said. I’ll go.”

In the end, they took the scepter into their room, and locked the door. They didn’t tell anyone else what was going on. They didn’t need to know.

“Are you  _ sure?” _ Tony asked, because Loki had been biting his lip for ten minutes and it was beginning to look a little raw. “We can wait.”

Loki nodded determinedly. “No,” he said. “I’m sure. I’m sure.”

He grabbed the scepter, and after a moment’s pause, Tony grabbed it too. They both took deep breaths, looking at each other. Loki smiled shakily. Tony couldn’t quite manage to do the same.

Something  _ lurched, _ and they were swept away.

* * *

Loki failed to subdue New York. He failed because he  _ wanted _ to fail, of course, because he planned things just  _ so _ , preventing them from going his way.

But Thanos did not take failure lightly.

()

The first time (which spanned about seven months), Thanos tried the slow approach.

The  _ break-him-over-time _ approach.

The  _ small-shifts-until-he-doesn’t-remember-who-he-used-to-be-anymore _ approach.

He started off giving Loki plenty of food. He started off with little to no pain. The punishments were insignificant. The insults thrown at him were little more than those that might be hurled by spiteful children. He started off barely touching him.

And Loki laughed in his face.

But over-time, things changed.

Loki was given little to nothing to eat. His ribs stuck out, his bones were angled and sharp through his skin. 

He was given  _ plenty _ of pain. Hits and kicks at random times. The whip. 

Thanos raped him at least once every day, whenever he felt like it. Leaving him bloody.

But Loki still laughed.

And so Thanos did everything he could to make everything somehow  _ worse, _ still, desperately trying to make it bad enough that something within Loki would just give way, would splinter and crack.

He gave him nothing to eat. He hurt him  _ constantly, _ in any number of imaginative ways, leaving him soaked in his blood and covered in bruises and flinching whenever anything moved.

Loki never stopped laughing.

()

So Thanos wiped his mind. Because this obviously wasn’t working. And besides, it would be more fun to start over—to attempt to break him anew. A fresh chance. A clean slate.

He went quick and fast and caught him off guard with his  _ brutality, _ leaving Loki gasping for breath.

But it didn’t work.

Because, although Loki would spend his night crying himself to sleep, he always kept up appearances in the morning. He still stood tall. Chin raised. Eyeing Thanos with contempt.

And that just would not do.

()

He left Loki to the Chitauri, the third time.

Loki was attacked by them, and  _ raped _ by them, constantly, day and night, leaving him barely any time to sleep—they were trying to wear him down with their pure persistence, never ceasing, never giving him a break.

He bore it all silently. 

Day after day after day. No shift, no change. He always, always got up and faced them with those sharp eyes and he never shed a single tear.

()

“Let’s try something else now, shall we?” Thanos asked, softly, tracing Loki’s jawline with one finger, as he held the scepter over him. “Your magic is capable, you said?” he asked, turning to the Other, whose six-fingered hands were clasped in front of him, whose hooded cloak was draped down over his face.

“Of course, my king,” the Other said. “He will never see it coming.”

There was no emotion in Loki’s eyes.

()

That was where the memories ended.

* * *

Tony opened his eyes to see Loki’s, wide and already filling quickly with tears, and just in time to see Loki’s mouth open slightly and hear, and  _ feel _ the small, stuttered gasp that escaped him, a short, warm breath of air ghosting over his face.

The gasp turned quickly into a sob.

And Loki was crying, crying into Tony’s shoulder, and Tony held him close and tried not to remember—not to remember what he had seen, and tried to remember that Loki was here and was okay and was  _ safe. _

Tony started to cry, too.

Even though  _ he _ shouldn’t be crying right now. He should be strong, strong for Loki.

(Although Loki was certainly strong enough for both of them.)

Yet, Tony cried. He cried hot, painful tears. Sobs that racked his body, that left him out of breath, gasping, panting for air. He cried, and as he cried he could feel the shaking of Loki’s shoulders, could feel Loki clinging desperately to his arm, to his shirt.

“Tony,” Loki said, barely able to get the words out. “ _ Tony, _ I can’t—”

A panic attack. Loki was…he must be having a...

Tony pulled Loki close, and they both sank down to the floor, tangled up in shivering armfuls of each other.

* * *

It took a long time.

But eventually, Tony was able to stop crying. And he held Loki close, and rocked him gently from side to side. Loki’s face was buried in Tony’s chest, and Tony could feel his tears through his shirt—and winced at every muffled, choked sob that he heard, because they just kept coming, kept coming.

“I  _ love _ you,” Tony said, because he thought Loki might need to hear that. “I love you  _ so much, _ Loki. No matter what he did to you—it can’t change that.”

Loki sobbed again, but he lifted his head and looked at Tony, one hand over his mouth, blinking away tears. His eyes were red.

“I know,” he said. “I know, I—that’s not why I’m crying.” His other hand twisted Tony’s shirt a little tighter. “It’s because all—all those times he had me, all those  _ wretched _ times, he never… he never  _ broke me.” _

Loki sobbed.

Again.

“I can’t—I don’t know what to  _ think,  _ it’s all…” he trailed off.

“That’s okay,” Tony said. “You don’t have to know. Some things take time. You’ll—you’ll know eventually.”

He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say.

Either way, they sat there, like that, for a long time, Tony simply holding Loki to his chest, Loki crying into the crook of his neck.

* * *

Loki knew that he wasn’t broken.

He said as much, he whispered it into Tony’s shoulder—“I  _ know _ I’m not broken, and sometimes I can believe it but it’s so hard to - to remember. It keeps slipping away and then I—and then I  _ hate  _ myself again.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony said, even though something in his gut twisted to hear Loki say that.

A pause.

“It helps,” he said. “Hearing you say that you love me. And—and killing Thanos, of course, because he looked  _ pathetic,” _ Loki laughed.

“He did,” Tony said. “He really did. Did you see the look on his face? He looked like one of those—those, ah, have you ever seen Scream?”

“No,” Loki said. “I haven’t seen  _ Scream.  _ We don’t  _ have _ movies on Asgard.”

Tony laughed. “Well, it’s a horror movie and—we should watch it, but—the Scream mask kind of reminds me of what his face looked like. Like someone just kicked him in the balls.”

“I kicked him in the balls once,” Loki said, wistfully. “He shrieked like a banshee.”

Tony laughed.

And, before the silence that followed could grow into something sad, and before Loki had even a chance to dwell in his memories, Tony was kissing him, softly and sweetly.

It became a full on make-out session.

Like they were horny high-school students.

Sucking at each other’s faces like a plunger at a clogged toilet.

And he had—Loki, humming softly in his throat, Loki’s hand carding through Tony’s hair, Loki’s breath on his skin, his warm breath.

Tony moaned when Loki bit down on his lip.

And then he pulled away, leaving Loki blinking and breathless—which did make him feel a little guilty, but this was more important.

“If this is gonna be a—” he waved a hand through the air. “A  _ thing, _ then we need to talk.”

* * *

Loki stared at him.

“What? What do you mean?” he asked, panting.

“I’m talking about—uh—consent,” Tony said. I’m just saying that I think it’s important that we discuss this. Even if we never do anything beyond kissing.”

That made Loki feel horrendously guilty.

“Would you be unhappy?” he asked. “If we never did anything more than kiss?”

“God, no, Loki,” Tony said. “I mean, sure, I  _ like _ having sex, but I’d be more than willing to sacrifice that for you. It’s fine.”

Something told Loki that it really  _ wasn’t _ fine.

“Maybe,” he said. “Eventually, we could. If we ease into it.” He paused. “I  _ want _ to do it. I don’t want Thanos to take that away from me.”

Tony hummed in his throat, but Loki couldn’t tell if it was an approving hum, or a non-committal one, or something else.

“Well, anyway,” Tony said. “You can say—you  _ should _ say ‘red,’ you know, if you ever feel uncomfortable. With anything. I won’t even ask what the problem is. I’ll just stop. And same goes for you. You have to stop, too. If I say it.”

“I will,” Loki said. Although he knew that he would likely be the only one saying it.

“Because,” Tony said, gripping Loki’s forearm a little tighter. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt you. I would never forgive myself. So you  _ have _ to say the word—please - if you feel unsafe, or, or anything. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t.”

“I  _ will,” _ Loki said, nodding seriously. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Tony smiled at him. “Okay. Thank you.”

And Loki realized that, a long time (or, actually, a rather short time, now that he thought about it) ago, he might have bristled at this conversation, at Tony’s suggestion that Loki would  _ need _ to say such a word, would ever feel unsafe just because of a simple touch.

Or perhaps he would have felt ashamed. That he  _ did _ need it. That he could no longer enjoy something as simple (ha!) as sex without these precautions in place.

But Loki didn’t feel angry. Or ashamed.

He only felt loved.

So he smiled back, softly, and cupped Tony’s cheek.

And they went back to their furious snog-session, as if it had never been interrupted at all.

* * *

"Okay, so I'm thinking press conference," Tony said. "I'm sitting there, and I tell them about Loki, and then he materializes next to me—snap, crackle, pop—and we bounce." He jerked his thumb towards an invisible doorway.

"Mmm... no," Barton said, from where he was sitting on the couch, head propped up against the cushions, arms folded. "Everyone would shoot him. And you know that there would be plenty of guns in there."

"Protection shield," Loki said.

"Using magic—not a great way to keep people relaxed."

"Pepper probably told everyone already anyway," Banner said. There was no hint of malice in his voice, in fact he said it with a faint smile.

"We would have heard about that," Tony said, starting to pace again. "Next."

"I could mind control the entire population of earth," Loki said. "Make them forget the invasion ever happened. Or perhaps make them all simply adore me."

"No," several people said at the same time—he wasn't sure which. (Although he did know that Thor had been one of them, because he had practically yelled.)

"’Twas a joke," Loki muttered.

"Yeah, well, it's kind of hard to tell with you. And anyway, that was a terrible idea," Bucky muttered, and gulped down some of his coffee.

"Well, we need to do  _ something _ . I don't want him to have to worry about being murdered every time he steps outside," Tony said.

"Of course not," Banner said.

"Then what,  _ genius _ ," Tony asked. "Do you suggest we do?"

* * *

There were methodical, well-laid out plans.

There were plans that took years to prepare. There was laying out the groundwork, slowly manipulating important people, convincing everyone before even saying a word.

And then there was “fuck it, let’s go down swinging.”

“More like go  _ up _ swinging,” Tony kept insisting. Since they were obviously going to suffer zero repercussions from this, and everything was gonna be fine and dandy.

They all ignored him.

Aside from good ‘ol Lokes, who glared at him and  _ then _ ignored him.

“You’re smiling on the inside,” Tony said, as he popped the cap on his bottle of booze. “You know you are. You can’t help it. I’m hilarious.”

Loki leaned back against the wall with a long-suffering sigh, and shared some meaningful eye contact with Clint.

And Tony grabbed his Washington Laptop, flipped it open, collapsed into a chair, snapped his fingers, and said, “Jarvis? Get me on air.”

* * *

Within an hour, Tony’s face was about to be smack dab in the middle of practically every news channel on earth, a tan, unshaven splat all over their screen. Probably sticky, too, because their eyes would undoubtedly be glued to it.

This analogy was running thin.

He typed out a few more strings of numbers, hunched over his keyboard in a way that was not going to be good for his back—and then turned.

"It's ready," he said with a shrug. "So how are we gonna do this?"

"We go up swinging," Loki murmured.

Tony paused. He really hadn't expected Loki to say that.

And Loki moved closer, towards him, and leaned in to speak into his ear—"If this is our only chance Tony, then let us take it, seize it like a bull by the horns." He shrugged. "But if we fail, then... we have each other."

Yeah.

_ Yeah. _

And besides, Loki could put glamours on them, and they could basically lead normal lives. Could even hang out with Bruce and Clint and Thor, and maybe the others if they ever came around, and they had each other so... so who needed the rest of humanity?

Pssh.

Tony grinned. "Yeah," he said. "Fair point."

For wasn't that what they had been living by, when they were alone together?

No need to overthink things, let's just be.

And do the right thing.

"That is a shit idea," Clint, who had apparently overheard their whole conversation, said.

"It's a great idea," Tony said. "It's called the no pressure idea. And I live by that," he took another drink from his bottle.

"Do whatever you want," Bruce said, quietly. "It's up to you."

Tony saw Clint glare at him. "I wasn't suggesting that it wasn't up to them—"

"Shut it," Tony said. He pointed a finger at Clint, and spun around in his swivel chair to face the computer again.

He hunched over, and his back twinged in protest.

Loki put a hand on his shoulder, and leaned in to look at the screen—and it reminded him of that day, seemingly so long ago, when he had just discovered that he was the Iron Viper and Loki had come in, panting from one of his rage-fueled knife-throwing sessions, and immediately stalked over and looked creepily over his shoulder.

It was no less creepy this time.

But everything else seemed different.

Loki was holding himself up with one hand, fingers splayed against the table-top. Tony placed his hand over Loki's.

And remembered, too late, that he had to type.

So he removed it awkwardly, returned it to the keyboard.

He could feel Loki's eyes on the back of his neck, and looked up to see his raised eyebrow. "What?" Tony asked, indignantly.

Loki scoffed, and waved a hand for him to go on.

"What's with the eyebrow," Tony said.

"You're ridiculous," Loki said.

"Says the dude with the antler-helmet," Tony muttered.

And Loki laughed, as Tony had known he would. Perhaps he should have been concerned that the joke would have been taken the wrong way, but—he knew Loki too well to be concerned by that.

"It's like they speak their own language," he heard Clint say.

Tony ignored him.

But Loki laughed. The most intimidating laugh that Tony had ever heard, a laugh that said  _ "I will gut you if you do not do exactly as I say, and grovel at my feet for good measure." _

Tony loved Loki's laugh.

* * *

"Hello, Earth,"Tony began, sitting there with his shades on, arms flung wide. "I'm back from the dead. Basically the twenty-first century's Jesus Christ."

Somewhere, off to the side, he heard someone snort.

"And I know that you're all probably wondering how I did it, and what happened to me, and what happened to my beard, but the actual most important piece of information that I wanted to share with you all is that you won't be seeing much of me from now on. Because I am done with the world's bullshit," Tony said, sneaking a smile at Loki, who was standing beside him, out of view of the laptop camera.

"Pep, you can have Stark Industries. I mean it, go crazy. Organize the hell out of everything," Tony said. "I don't want the company anymore." It was true.

There were more important things.

And he hadn't wanted the company for a long time.

"And all my other friends—or, er, well-known acquaintances, some of you—down in New York—you can drop by. Hang out, play a game of pool. I don't give a shit. Knock yourself out."

Tony smiled his billionaire smile.

"To the people of Earth. This may come as a shock, but, well, I won't actually be telling you what happened to me. Firstly, it's none of your business. Secondly, I just don't care what you think. I'm Tony Stark, after all. King of not-caring," he grinned sardonically at his own lie, and Loki's unimpressed expression.

"Oh, but, for the record, I wasn't mind-controlled by anyone," he said. "I mean, come on. I'm too awesome for that. Not even the most epic Norse deity could mind control me."

Loki scoffed.

"So, anyway, ah, don't bother trying to find me. You can be grief-stricken by my absence, of course, maybe build me a statue, give me a holiday—Tony Stark Day has a nice ring to it—but really, don't even try to search me out because I promise you, I won't be found.

"Oh, and, uh..."

Tony glanced up.

"There's someone," he began, thinking back. "Who deserves some recognition. And I'm well aware that everyone will assume I'm just saying this because he's pointing a gun or, like, lightning-fingers at my head or something, but whatever, I don't care. I'm just gonna say my piece.

"This guy is the bravest man I've ever known. Because he went through... horrible things, and he came right out the other side, hit the ground running, karate-chopping, groin-kicking, like a fucking badass. He got blamed for being mind-controlled, people thought that the things he was forced to do were his fault but they weren't. He's innocent, actually. And we've been living together for a few months now and I'm pretty head over heels for him," Tony smiled. "Kind of embarrassing, I know, but hey—love is love, right?"

Tony's smile turned into a smirk.

"Oh, and if you hadn't guessed yet, his name is Loki."

He beckoned Loki with a crook of his finger, and Loki sighed before walking over somewhat hesitantly, but— _ what did they have to lose? _

Loki sat down next to Tony.

In full view of the whole world.

And Tony kissed him on the lips.

And before he could get lost in it, he managed to fumble for the computer and close it.

After that, they began making out.

“Uck,” Clint muttered, under his breath, from somewhere to the right.

Thor shifted uncomfortably.

And Tony didn’t hear anything else, because he couldn’t exactly  _ focus _ on anything else. Hey, cut him some slack, it’s a bit hard to do when the sexiest man in the entire  _ universe _ is sticking his tongue down your throat.

Tony lost himself.

* * *

This time, Tony answered Pepper’s call.

_ “Tony!”  _ he heard her cry.  _ “Tony, are you really there? Tony?” _

Loki, who was lying curled up on the couch with his head in Tony’s lap, perked up when he heard it, and glanced up at Tony, who gave him a thin-lipped smile and put the phone on speaker.

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”

_ “Tony,”  _ she said, again. Something sad threatening to break free in her voice, bubbling up to the surface like gooey, gelatinous sludge in a swamp.  _ “Tony, are you all right?” _

“Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Silence on the other end.

Aside from the labored, sob-like breaths.

“Pep,” he said, in lieu of the  _ sorry _ that threatened to break free. He wasn’t sorry.

“Is it real?” she asked, and he could just imagine her desperately clinging to her phone in that  _ way _ she had, all her emotions clear on her face for anyone to see. “Is it actually real?”

Tony glanced down at Loki.

He was staring almost vacantly at the ceiling, but when he saw Tony looking he smiled encouragingly and placed a hand on his thigh.

“That’s somewhat of a vague, open-ended question,” he said. “But I’m assuming you’re talking about the video of me and Loki that I sent to the entire world, where we flaunted our relationship like idiotic star-crossed lovers during the climax of a shitty movie.”

Nothing from the other end.

“That was all real, Pep,” he said. “100% organic. No artificial ingredients.”

She laughed. A sad laugh.

“Only sourced from local farms.”

She laughed again, and this laugh was even sadder.

Loki laughed, softly, and his laugh was  _ happy. _

Tony smiled at him, and began to awkwardly pet his hair.

And while Loki initially made a show of glaring at him, he quickly stopped pretending and closed his eyes with a small sigh. His hand slipped off of Tony’s thigh and dangled over the edge of the couch.

“So,” Tony said. “What’s up.”

_ “You love him.” _

It wasn’t a question.

But Tony thought it might have been intended as one.

Loki cracked one eye slightly open.

“‘Course,” Tony said. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. And he loves me, too, so there’s that.”

His finger got caught on a knot, and Loki hissed, and reached up to flick him on the head.

_ “Tony…” _

“You don’t have to believe me,” Tony said. “Either way, it won’t change a thing.”

A pause.

_ “He’s a madman,”  _ Pepper said.

Tony stiffened.

His voice went cold.

“Thank you for leaving the voicemails,” he said. “Goodbye.”

_ “Wait!” _

He hung up.

And when he next looked down, Loki was staring at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You could have spoken to her longer. I don’t mind a few insults. It’s not like I would blame her for thinking the worst of me.”

“I told her the truth and she didn’t listen,” Tony shrugged. “So staying on the line and listening to her talk shit about you would have just been a waste of both of our time.”

“She may begin to listen. In time.”

Tony looked at the ground. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

He hoped—dangerously, desperately hoped _ — _ that she would. That they all would. Someday.

But for now, he had Loki.

And Loki was more than enough.

* * *

A week passed.

And it was a  _ glorious _ one.

Loki had never—had  _ never _ —felt as loved as he did during those seven days.

Barnes went back to be with Rogers, but Thor, Banner, and Barton all stayed, as the world around them was torn to pieces by Tony’s announcement—there was an uproar among the people of Midgard, apparently.

No one seemed to care.

And they simply spent the time “hanging out”, as Tony put it. Having  _ fun _ together. Banner was a master at chess. Barton taught Loki and Tony how to shoot arrows, and Loki pretended that he had never learned before, just to see the looks on their faces when he hit the bullseye every time.

Thor was so kind.

He stuck to Loki’s side whenever possible, and they had their mock-arguments and their teasing banter, just like old times. But whenever Thor sensed that Loki no longer wished—or could even  _ stand— _ to be around him, he was gone.

They all seemed to have become very attentive to Loki’s sudden shifts in moods. And they would all make up excuses and file out the door to leave Tony there with him, and Tony was  _ wonderful. _ He always knew exactly what to do.

Loki still had panic attacks.

It was terrible. He hated it.

But Tony would hold him, and afterwards would give him something called an “Oreo” (they were delicious) or perhaps a kiss. Once, Tony picked a handful of flowers for him, messily braided his hair, and wove them in.

One time, Loki had a panic attack when Tony was not there.

He wasn’t sure  _ why _ it had happened. Perhaps it was the closeness of the three of them, and the dimness of the room (they were in the kitchen, but Banner had turned out the overhead light, saying it was hurting his eyes). And Loki  _ knew _ that they were not Chitauri, but it didn’t matter if he knew.

His hands shook.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Loki,” he heard Barton say. “Loki,  _ Loki.” _

“Breathe, all right?” Banner said, even as he took a step back. “Match my breathing.  _ Slow.” _

None of that helped.

But what did help was Thor’s big, warm hand on his shoulder, Thor’s nearness, Thor’s familiar warmth. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air. He was like a mountain or a standing stone—wide and tall and unmovable and there since the dawn of time.

“Thor,” Loki choked out, in between gasps, the world going fuzzy on the edges.

Immediately, Thor let go, and backed up a step.

“No,” Loki said. “No, don’t—” and he lunged forward and grabbed Thor’s shirt and pulled him in close, burying his face in his brother’s chest, in his big brother’s chest— 

_ Thor. _

Loki  _ loved _ Thor. Thor loved him.

And that was the difference. And that was the difference.

“It’s not you,” Loki said. “It’s not your fault. It was all  _ him. _ ”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barton and Banner creep out of the room.

“He was a monster. But you are my  _ brother.” _

For they would forever be brothers, regardless of blood or painful memories. Forever and always brothers.

Loki pressed a hand to Thor’s cheek, studied his face. Every line, scar, blemish or mark, the little wrinkle at the corner of his lips that burst to life when he smiled. His eyes. 

_ Wide eyes, crazed eyes, looking down as these same arms held him there, pinned him there - madness in that grin, that deranged grin—pain pain  _ pain— _ and Loki sobbed—  _

He shook his head to clear it.

Breath came fast anyway.

He didn’t  _ care,  _ he didn’t  _ want _ to panic— 

Thor moved to step away.

“It’s okay, Thor,” Loki said, chest heaving. “Not your fault. I love you.”

Thor’s eyes widened.

“I love you too,” he said.

And the words spilled out.

“He used you,” Loki said, clinging to Thor’s shirt with one hand, the other still pressed to his brother’s cheek. “He created an illusion of you to trick me, to make me think that you saved me when you really  _ hadn’t. _ And he left me there for a full day, in that dream, so vivid I believed with my whole heart that it was real—before he changed it back, but he didn’t change  _ you _ back, he had you there and he made it look like you… like you…”

Thor’s warm arms,  _ his brother’s  _ arms, reached up to wrap around him like a blanket.

“Hurt me,” Loki said. “Raped me.”

He rubbed circles in Thor’s cheek with his thumb.

“So, you see, I was never afraid of  _ you. _ It was the memories that terrified me. I am not afraid of you.”

“I am sorry,” Thor said, voice small. He held himself uncertainly, as if he was afraid to even move, lest he remind Loki of what had happened. “That he did that to you. But I am glad that you are brave enough to stay here with me, despite it.”

“Thank you,” Loki said. “And please, never doubt that I love you.”

And Loki’s first thought was that at least one of them must be crying, but—their eyes were both dry, and actually, they both smiled.

Loki didn’t understand why he felt so  _ happy. _

“Only if you do not doubt that I feel the same for you,” Thor said.

And Loki grinned, feeling giddy, feeling ready to overflow, to burst.

Thor smiled, although he seemed uncertain.

And that was good enough for now.

* * *

Tony and Loki were in bed.

Banner and Barton had left for their homes. Thor was still here, but he was planning to return to Asgard shortly. He had been missed.

Loki pressed a hand to Tony’s arc reactor, and Tony pressed a hand to his chest.

“Things turned out okay, I guess,” Tony said. “Better than I might have expected. I’m so happy that they did.”

Loki smiled.

“And we’ve got—oh, thirty or so years?” Tony shrugged. “Together? Seems like a good time to me.”

Loki’s breath caught.

“No,” he said, and quickly tore away a piece of his magic, letting it  _ flow _ up and up and  _ out  _ and into his hand.

It had been easy, back in that filthy cave of Chitauri, to figure out how to do it. He had done it before, after all. And he was the most powerful mage in all the Nine Realms.

He handed the little ball of magic to Tony.

“Press it to the reactor,” he said. “It will seep into your skin. It will fill up the empty space.”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“I think,” Loki said. “That it should be able to keep you alive.”

Tony barely breathed.

“How long?” he asked.

Loki grinned mischievously.

“For as long as you want,” he said.

Tony’s hands immediately began to shake—“Holy shit, holy shit”—and he fumbled to get a better grip on the little piece of Loki’s magic, but once he did, he pressed it to his chest without hesitating.

“It requires contact,” Loki said, amused. 

Tony practically tore his shirt off, and pressed Loki’s magic to his chest again.

And Loki, because this was something he had been wanting to do for a long time, took off his shirt as well—and yes, it was a bit strange for them both to be lying in bed shirtless without  _ doing _ anything, but he didn’t care - and Tony muttered, “Holy—” before cutting off as his breath caught.

“It’s okay,” Loki said. “It’s okay.”

Tony pressed a hand to Loki’s chest again. His bare chest.

“Sorry,” he said, when Loki stiffened, and pulled his hand away.

Loki grabbed it, and put it back. “No. It’s fine. I want you to touch it. To... wipe the stain of  _ his _ touch from my skin. Strange as that sounds.”

Tony shook his head. "It's not strange. Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want."

Loki looked into Tony's eyes, bright as they were from the light of his magic. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

Love, he recalled, was not something that he had dared to even dream of ever having again.

“Thank you for this joy,  _ elskan _ ,” he murmured.

“And to you as well, erksan,” Tony said, and leaned in for a kiss.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And they lived happily ever after._
> 
> :)
> 
> HOLY SHIT you guys I NEVER thought I’d actually finish this!!! It’s the first multi-chapter fic I’ve finished and that’s such a wonderful feeling! And the fact that it ended up being over 150k words is insane! I have to say, if it wasn’t for your consistent support even despite my craziness and irregular updates, I probably would never have managed to finish, so, THANK YOU!!  
> And if you'd like, then do please leave a comment! I will be sure to respond to all of them so I can thank you personally :)


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